


Siren Song

by RivanKing



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nephilim, Pack Feels, Siren, Stiles is 21
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 07:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3560483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RivanKing/pseuds/RivanKing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pack takes Stiles out to celebrate his 21st birthday when an unexpected visitor shows up. They brush off the incident as weird but normal until weird things start happening to Derek. Meanwhile, Stiles starts being visited by a strange person that only he can see. How are the occurrences connected?<br/>Stiles must figure that out, or he may lose Derek to the pull of the Siren's song.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Siren Song

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing something in a long while, so please forgive the grammatical errors and the copious usage of commas as my thoughts tend to drag out the way my sentences do.  
> There is a karaoke scene in the beginning and the end, as well as the use of borrowed lyrics throughout the work. All lyrics belong to the artists that wrote them. A particular song, "Break the Cycle," by You + Me, was the inspiring piece and played in the background of my thoughts throughout my writing. If you haven't heard it, you should check it out.

                “Dude! It’s his 21st birthday. You have to come!” Scott already knew that Derek was going to say yes, it was just a matter of when and how large he was going to have to make his brown, puppy dog eyes before eliciting the correct response.

                “Why would I want to spend my night at some shady bar that reeks of stale beer, arousal, and desperation?”

                Derek had a valid argument, well, for Derek anyways, but he was unprepared for Scott’s next point. Scott, knowing full well the affect his innocent features had on people, widened his eyes a little more, let them grow wet from the exposure to the dry air of Derek’s loft, made his best frowny face, and began to whimper.

                The response was almost immediate. The look of resolve on Derek’s face, gave way to one of quiet resignation. Scott wrapped him in a tight hug and presented his cheesiest, self-satisfied smile. He knew that with Malia off with her mom in the desert, doing god only knows what, that Stiles would perk right up at the reluctant appearance of Derek. The thought may have even crossed his mind that if he were to get the both of them drunk enough, the two might finally stop running in circles around one another, and finally hook-up. Worst case scenario, they drunkenly stumble into Derek’s loft and Stiles throws him that bone his been carrying around since freshman year. This thought however was one the Scott will deny ever having, not because it’s Stiles and Derek, but because of the stupid dog/bone joke. He is after all, a wolf himself and an alpha, and he takes pride in being above that sort of mentality…..now anyways.

 ************

                “Where are you guys taking me?” Stiles asked repeatedly. Though he was fond of surprises, he was not fond of the blindfold currently pressed firmly against his eyes.

                “It’s a surprise, Stiles! You aren’t allowed to look until we get there,” Lidia quipped as the car came to a stop. The idea to blindfold Stiles was a recent development that sounded good when received by the rest of the group, but the practical application was not as well received.

                “Where are we going? Can you give me a hint? Was that two lefts then a right that we made? Who keeps touching my thigh? Is that what the blindfold is for? Is my surprise a place, general disorientation, or are you guys about to play a game called, ‘guess who’s feeling up Stiles?’”

                Lydia, though always calm and poise, was about to lose her shit if Stiles didn’t stop talking long enough for her to reevaluate what they were going to do if Derek didn’t show. No one had heard from him since that morning when they met at his place to go over the party preparations. Derek, though sullen and silent throughout the event, gave an exasperated sigh but agreed to do his part.

                Now that they had all arrived, the familiar black camero was nowhere to be seen. Scott tried calling a few times on the ride over from where he sat in the passenger seat of Liam’s olds mobile, or as the pack liked to call it, the rusty-box-of-death. Someone had to be the DD though, and since Liam was still under the legal drinking age, he had happily volunteered.

                “I hear music!” Stiles exclaimed. “Can I take this stupid blindfold off now?”

                Lydia smacked at his hands as he began to reach for the tie in the back. “No! Not till everyone is set up and ready. For God’s sake, Stiles, I know you are impatient, but we put a lot of work into this idea and I’m not going to have it ruined by you spoiling your own surprise before everyone else can appreciate it.”

                “Ok ok! But did you have to tie it so tight? I thought it was only the wolves that had the bondage fetish.” Stiles chuckled to himself at his last remark, and could practically feel the wind brushing his face with the severity in which Lydia had rolled her eyes at it. He had had several promising fantasies of testing just how receptive a certain wolf would be to the prospect of being walked about on a leash, and just as he was about to lose himself to yet another, a rapping on the window beside him startled him back to reality and elicited a rather un-masculine yelp.

                “Hahaha! Wow. That was quite a manly noise coming from Beacon Hills’ newest deputy. That should reassure the city.” Parish was delighted with himself, but still felt pride in knowing that he would be training his former boss’ son.

                “You shouldn’t sneak up on people, especially in this town!” Stiles remarked, but he was beginning to giggle under his breath and so his words lost all effect. “Does someone want to help me out of this car, or is falling on my face with this blindfold on part of the plan?”

                Jordan opened the door as Scott came by to help his friend climb out of the seat. Musing to himself about exploiting the fact that it was his birthday, Stiles reached both arms up at the proximity of his friend and yelled “BIRTHDAY RIDE!”

                Scott chuckled openly knowing what his friend was asking and swung around to let Stiles place his arms around him as he began to lift him out of the seat to a standing piggy-back. “You better get a good grip, buddy” Scott told his friend as a smile spread across both their faces. Stiles could feel the muscles in Scott’s back and shoulders thicken as he let the transformation take over. A moment later they were bounding through the parking lot as Scott started to jump and climb up the side of a building. Normally, Stiles would be reveling in the shared humor of his best friend as he asserted his alpha strength and delighted in the freedom of running and climbing over things like a wild animal, but as Stiles was still blindfolded, his amusement had a bit of horror underlying in it. He burrowed his face into the back of Scott’s neck, wrapped himself a little tighter around the werewolf, and pressed a smile into his shoulder.

                The jump back to the ground was Stiles’ new favorite thing. With the loss of his vision, the feeling of absolute weightlessness as they plummeted overwhelmed him as him wrapped his legs around Scott’s thighs and dared to let loose with his hands. “I’M FLYING!” Stiles exclaimed.

                “Get back over here, children!” Lydia was pleased with their amusement, but they were on a schedule and she wanted to go inside to get the celebration going in earnest.

                As Scott came padding up to Lydia, Jordan, and Liam, with Stiles wrapped tightly to his back, the smiles on all their faces were a promising note to the start of the festivities.

 ***********

                “SURPRISE!” the group exclaimed as they removed Stile’s blindfold and revealed the scene before him. They were at Danny’s recently established bar, Mahalo. He smiled from behind the counter and waved to the pack. Stiles took off running towards him and attempted to leap the counter to embrace his friend.

                “And just where in the hell have you been, Mr. Mahealani?” Stiles had clearly missed him, and not just because he had helped him come to grips with his open sexuality, though not entirely in the way Stiles had originally imagined, but he had gladly accepted the advice and understanding given to him regardless of the lack of nakedness involved.

                “I only recently just graduated from business school with Jackson. He was actually the one to suggest we open up a bar here in Beacon Hills, stating, “If there is anywhere in the world that needs alcohol more than anywhere else, its gotta be here where all the weird shit happens. People just aren’t equipped to deal with it, so they drink and deny their own eyes. It would be rude of us not to help them out.”

                “Not to mention the untold revenue you are going to acquire once you’ve been fully established long enough for people to know you are here,” Stiles mused. “So where is the ass-hat?”

                Danny risked a side glance at Lydia, who was pretending not to be listening to their conversation as she set up at a table in the center of the room. “He wanted to be more of a silent partner, given the circumstances of Lydia and Parish secretly hooking up, so after the place was remodeled and we got all our licensing and codes up to par, he took off again.”

                “I see, so it’s more of a silent partner kind of situation. That’s a shame.” Stiles huffed the last part, but Danny knew he meant it. As much as the two of them had fought in highschool, there was an underlying appreciation and respect for one another. Shit happens in highschool, but it helps to shape us into who we are. The good and the…not so good.

                “So why are you over here with me when the rest of your party is over there?” Danny remarked. Stiles looked over his shoulder at the group who were now all talking and laughing amongst themselves. Stiles sighed inwardly, though he loved his friends, it was nice to be around another actual human every once in a while. Danny knew about what went on in this town, and had even been offered to be turned after he had graduated and Jackson wanted to make him his first official beta after the werewolf had risen himself under the tutelage of a French alpha female, but Danny had declined, stating that going through puberty once was enough and that the thought of having to go through a similar experience as he grew into wolfhood just wasn’t appealing to him. Besides, like Stiles, he enjoyed just being himself.

                He handed Stiles a drink, which he just kind of looked at until Danny laughed and put a little umbrella in it. “Thanks man.” Stiles said, and he kissed him lightly on the cheek and walked over to the table where everyone else was waiting and now staring openly at him with impatience.

                “It’s about time, dude!” Scott said excitingly.

                “Shut up! It’s MY birthday!” Stiles fake yelled as he fell into his seat and began sipping on his drink.

                “You didn’t get anyone else a drink?” Liam asked with a slightly pleading expression.

                “Liam, you’re not even old enough to have alcohol.” Parish said. “Do you really want Deputy Stilinski to lose his badge before he even gets to put on his uniform? Not to mention risking Danny losing his liquor license.”

                Liam just laughed it off. “I was just messing with him. Just because it’s his birthday doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t have any fun, right?”

                “Danny! Can we please have a round of shots for the table, and a coke for my underage friend here?” Stiles shouted up to the bartender. A few moments later there was a bottle of tequila and 4 shot glasses sitting on the table.

                “That bottle is on me tonight, with my compliments to the birthday boy.” Danny said as he sauntered off back to his comfortable place behind the counter.

                “Tequila, YES!” Scott yelled as he poured a round for the four of them that were old enough. “I’m going to need this with what’s to come next.

                “What do you mean? Stiles asked, intrigued.

                The corner of Scott’s mouth twitched into a nervous smile as he pointed over his shoulder. Stiles followed the direction his finger was pointing to a corner against the back wall where an area had been cleared, a small stage had been set up, and there was a microphone and little machine sitting ominously all alone on it.

                “KAROKE! You guys are the best!” Stiles bolted from his chair and began to run around the table and sloppily kiss them all. “Let’s get some liquid courage in us and rock out! Is there a set list or music selection we can riffle through?”

                “Stiles, we have something better, it’s called Wi-Fi.” Lydia stated with mock amusement. “If you can think it, we can find it.”

                “Parish, you’re up first!” Stiles announced. “If I’m going to be your whipping boy starting next week, then I am going to need something to hold over you to keep me motivated.”

                Jordan just rolled his eyes at the thought and laughed. “The balls on this one huh? Thinks he can tell me what to do even though I’m his superior officer.” The pack laughed as Parish got up from the table and walked over to the makeshift stage.

                “Better make this good, because you are my ginipigs on deciding whether or not to have a karaoke night in the future,” Danny stated from behind the bar where he watched them with a sense of amusement.

                “If your betting the farm on me,” Parish started, “then I wouldn’t go counting your chickens before they hatched.” He looked down at the karaoke machine, slightly intimidated at the thought of putting himself out there for the judgment and amusement of his peculiar assortment of friends, but found the strength to go through with it. The music started as the words began to appear on the screen in front of him.

                “ _…bad boys, bad boys. Whatcha gonna do, watcha gonna do when they come for you? Bad boys bad boys…”_

The responsive applause and cheering laughter that followed his display was the effect his was going for.

                “Dude! You’re such a nerd!” Scott laughed. “That was quite a fitting selection.”

                “I’m glad that you’re amused, because I nominate you to go next!”

                Scott’s smile dropped from his face and he actually blanched a little. “Stiles,” he whispered, “do you think they’ll judge me if I sing a Daddy Yankee song?”

                “Bro, don’t play the stereotype. No one wants to hang out with ‘ _that guy.’”_ Both of them laughed at the inside joke of just how underplayed Scott’s race card was.

                An idea struck Scott and he went up to the stage.

                _“...I see the bad moon rising. I see trouble on the way. I see earthquakes and lightnin’, I see_ _those bad times today. Don’t go around tonight, well it’s bound to take your life. There’s a bad moon on the rise…”_

                “Yeah buddy!” Liam proclaimed as he high fived his alpha when he sat back down at the table. “That was a bit poetically genius on your part.”

                Scott poured himself another shot and downed it with a self satisfied smile. “I’m thinking it’s time for the birthday boy to show us what he’s got!”

                Stiles smiled, accepting the inevitable, but was beginning to feel a little down. He was having a great time, and appreciated what his friends had done in honor of him, but he couldn’t help but wonder why a certain sour faced wolf was noticeably absent.

                “You’re awfully quiet, Stiles. You actually nervous or something?” Lydia asked. She could practically read his thoughts and was wondering the same thing. She nonchalantly checked her phone to see there were no new messages and quietly returned its place on the table.

                Stiles regained himself and stood up, marching to the microphone and entering a song title into the machine for it to populate the appropriate lyrics.

_“…If you could only see, the beast you’ve made of me. I’ve held it in but now it seems you’ve set it running free. Screaming in the dark, I howl when we’re apart. Drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart..”_

                As Stiles concluded his cover of the Florence song, clapping sounded from across the room as Derek showed his appreciation for the somewhat dark love song. He was standing at the bar adjacent from Danny, with a bakery box resting on the counter beside him containing Stiles’ birthday cake. Stiles rushed off the stage and pounced on him. The two toppled to the ground, knocking the cake off the edge of the bar to land on top of them. 

                “What the hell Stiles? You just ruined your cake. If I had known it would have been pointless to bring, I could have been here earlier.” He pushed the young man off of himself with a grunt and stood them both up.

                “I don’t care about the cake. I..errr..I mean thank you, but I’m just really glad you’re here.” Stiles said as he hugged Derek and playfully smacked him on the ass when he turned to walk towards the table with everyone else. Stiles began to follow but Danny stopped him and handed him a broom and dustpan, pointing at the mess Stiles had made. Stiles apologized and cleaned up his mess. He was handing back the broom to Danny when he heard Lydia’s voice come through the speakers.

                _“…Ohh, oh. The siren sang so sweet and watched the sailors going down. Ohh, oh, you talk to me in siren song, yeah anyone would drown. Anyone would drown…”_

The pack grew silent, as Lydia blinked mindlessly from the stage and strolled back to her seat at the table. Stiles was pulling up another chair when Scott asked the obvious question, “That was an interesting choice. What brought that on?”

                “I’m not quite sure. I’m familiar with the song because I looked into the band when I learned that they were named after a rather Shakespearean turn of phrase of two opposing words, ‘A Fine Frenzy,’ but as far as actually singing it, it was kind of spur of the moment.”

                “Well I liked it,” Derek confessed. The rest of the pack immediately took to his acceptance of it and everyone went back to giving their attention to the birthday boy.

                “I believe you have some catching up to do,” Stiles said as he shook the now empty bottle of tequila. “Danny, can we please get another bottle? Derek is going to be paying for our drinks the rest of the night since he was late, AND managed to ruin my cake in the process.”

                “Stiles, you ruined your own cake,” Derek growled, but he acknowledged his tardiness, apologized to the rest of the group for it and accepted that he was going to be picking up the bill.

                They all took a shot, minus Liam who was beginning to look a bit sullen at not being able to get as giddily drunk as the rest of the group seemed to be. Scott sensed his oncoming broodiness, and slipped him a shot under the table when everyone else was too engaged in conversation with Stiles.  They became so wrapped up in themselves that no one noticed the young woman who had taken to the stage.

                _“…And I’ll stay here, you’ll be gone for another year. The plans that I’ve made, are falling on deaf ears. I’m beside myself, now that you have gone. I’m beside myself, now that you have gone….”_

The haunting tune trailed off and the woman walked over to the bar. Everyone had stopped talking at this point and were openly staring at her. She didn’t seem to notice them and was content to just sit and look longingly into the glass of merlot that Danny had set in front of her.

The group, now more curious than unnerved by the sudden appearance of this interloper, began to whisper amongst themselves. They must have only thought they were whispering amongst themselves in their drunken state, because when they looked back up, she was gone, and the still full glass was sitting alone at the bar.

                “Well that was…strange,” Lydia remarked. “A bit of a mood killer don’t you think?” she asked of no one in particular. Everyone just sort of awkwardly laughed, everyone except for Derek who was sniffing the air.

                “What?” Stiles implored, looking irritated with Derek’s distraction.

                “It’s nothing,” he responded. “It’s just that smell.”

                “Care to elaborate for those of us without the super nostrils?” Stiles peeved.

                Derek looked at Scott and Liam but both of them just shook their heads. Whatever Derek was scenting, the other two couldn’t make it out over the prevailing scent of tequila whisping through the air. Derek scrunched his forehead trying to discern the appropriate identifiers that would connect the others with what he was getting. “It’s like…..something salty, almost briny the way that the ocean smells, but also with a sweet undertone to it. Like, like….”

                “Like what, Derek!?” Stiles asked, his voice a little louder than he intended. He was noticeably drunk and irritated about something.

                “…Like.. peanut butter cookies,” Derek concluded with a self-satisfied grin.

                “Well you know what they say about dogs and peanut butter,” Stiles mumbled.

                “Dude! Too mean.” Scott responded. In Stiles inebriated state, it hadn’t occurred to him that there were three wolves at the table with super hearing. Stiles just shrugged it off and started awkwardly laughing, soon followed by the non-wolf members at the table who had finally caught up with the joke. Then they were all laughing and everyone was eased.

                They shared a few more rounds and sang a few more songs, becoming wildly off key as the night progressed, until Danny finally yelled for last call and began to clean up.

                Laughing and leaning on one another for support, they tried to help Danny with their glasses but he waved them off as he saw the tip Derek left when closing out their tab. “Thank you Mr. Hale,” he said graciously, “but I feel like that’s a bit too generous and it might borderline on taking advantage of you if I accept it.”

                “Heeyy!” Stiles slurred. “If anyone is going to be taken advantage of tonight, it better be me!” Stiles wrapped an arm around Derek’s in mock stability, pretended to trip and pressed his face, full into Derek’s chest. Derek laughed at the lame attempt and moved to push him gently away. Stiles would not be deterred however and wrapped his other arm around Derek in an embrace. “Just accept my love, man. I’m really glad you came tonight.”

                “Stiles, you’ve had a few too many.” Derek said to his friend, but he didn’t hear Stiles’ heart falter when he was telling him that he appreciated his presence, and he felt oddly warm about it.

                “Keys!” Danny asked of the group, though it sounded more like a demand than anything else, but they all happily obliged since they had already made arrangements for Liam to drive them. Liam, who was now a little wobbly himself after the shots Scott had been sneaking him half the night.

                “Sorry guys,” Scott confessed as he took Liam’s keys and handed them to Danny to put with the other two sets.

                “I’m not sorry,” Liam jested, “but I am sorry for the long walks home we’ll have.”

                “Please don’t arrest me Deputy Stilinski!” Scott smiled. “I wanted him to have as much fun as the rest of us! What kind of alpha would I be if I excluded my beta?”

                “A RESPONSIBLE ONE!” Lydia admonished, but she too was a bit too intoxicated to actually care. She kissed Liam’s cheek, eliciting a smile and raised eyebrow from the normally pensive boy, but the look that Parish shot his direction spoke volumes and he quickly turned away.

                “I can call Mason to pick us up. He should be off of work by now. Though he won’t be able to fit all of us in his truck,” Liam wavered under the idea knowing that only one other person besides himself would be able to climb into the cab, and with the equipment that filled the bed, there was no way the others would be able to climb into the back.

                “That should work for you and Scott,” Parish chimed. “Lydia and I don’t have far of a walk since we live a block over from one another, and it’s only about a mile and a half from here, so we should be alright. He tucked his hand neatly into hers, fully accepting the pda and what it implied, but the pack had already been apprised of their fondness for one another so Jordan didn’t really care about the bemused looks and inside giggles from the lot as the two of them headed for the door.

                “What about you two?” Scott asked feeling a little guilty as he looked at Derek and Stiles.

                “Well, I can’t just walk home because it’s on the other side of town, but I’ll figure something out. Maybe Danny can give me a ride.” Stiles winked at the bartender as he locked up the till.

                “As promising as that drunkenly sounds, sorry man but I have a date with the guy who did the wiring for the sound system in here. He’s meeting me at The Jungle in a little bit.”

                “Aww, that’s ok. I hope you have a good time, Danny.” Stiles responded sincerely.

                With a resounding sigh, Derek offered up his sofa. He only lived three blocks away, so the prospect of walking home didn’t really bother him. Plus, it would give his werewolf liver time to sober him up in the night air.

                “YAY! Pajama party at Derek’s!” Stile’s cooed.

                “Stiles, you were expecting to be driven home, so it doesn’t exactly look like you brought pajamas with you.” Derek blanched knowing the line he had just walked into, and promptly put a hand over Stiles’ mouth to keep it from being stated out loud. The effect was pointless however as he quickly pulled it away when Stiles began to lick the inside of Derek’s palm. “Stiles, don’t make me regret this decision.”

                “Fine, sourwolf, I’ll behave.” Stiles walked around the counter to give Danny a good-bye hug and to tell him not to be a stranger. Then he and Derek left so that Danny could finish locking up.

                Derek fished his jacket out of his car and began to head in the direction of the loft, with Stiles following behind him. They had walked the first block in silence as Stiles composed himself, lost in the thought of possibility, when Derek heard him say, “Excuse me,” and step oddly to the side.

                “What was that?” Derek asked, relieved to break the awkward silence.

                “Hmm? Ohh, nothing. I just almost bumped into that guy back there.” Stiles explained “It was kind of rude of him to just be walking down the middle of the path like that.”

                Derek stopped for a moment looking behind them and then at Stiles, a question forming on his tongue, but he brushed the incident off as a ‘Stileism’ and continued towards the loft. He hadn’t seen anyone. As they rounded the corner of the street, the nothing that Derek saw was staring back in their direction, particularly at Stiles.

                As Derek slipped the key into the lock of his building, he noticed Stiles was leaning with his back against the bricks that framed the front door, slowly sliding down towards the ground. It seemed that the closer they got, the better Derek had started to feel as the effects of the alcohol wore off thanks to his super healing, but the longer they had walked, the more the drinks in Stiles’ system had had a chance to permeate throughout his body, making him almost to the tipping point of passing out.

                “Are you going to make it to the loft?” he asked of Stiles.

                “Yeah, I should be alright,” he responded slowly, but as Stiles blurrily squinted through the door at the impending steps of doom before him, he reconsidered. “On second thought, just get me inside and I’ll crash on the stoop.”

                “Seriously?” An eyebrow raised on Derek’s face

                “Yeah, it’s cool. I’ve slept on my porch a few times when I was younger for fear of going inside and waking my dad. Walking into the Sheriff’s house, underage and drunk, even if he is my own father, is still a pretty scary thought.”

                “You’re not sleeping down here, Stiles. This is a pretty vacant area of town, but that doesn’t mean shit doesn’t still happen. I’m not having you murdered on my property. You’re gonna have to push through it.”

                “Aww,” Stiles cooed, “it’s almost as if you care about me. I mean, in a very minimalistic sorta way. I think I’m growing on you!” Stiles stuck out his tongue in what he hoped was Derek’s general direction.

                It wasn’t. With the awkward way he had turned his head, he was almost licking the bricks on the front of the building.

                Derek just huffed but let it go, slightly bemused by the sight. “Here,” he said extending a hand to Stiles, “let me help you.”

                They managed to make it into the building, Derek securing the door behind them, and proceeded towards the first landing. They had five flights to ascend and the thought of it was tormenting Stiles. He managed to make it up four whole steps before his feet gave out and he began to tumble backwards. Derek swung his arm around the young man to steady him, bringing him back up.

                “I can’t do it, Derek. I’ll really be fine right here.”

                Derek honestly considered it for a moment. This was taking too long and he really had to pee now that his body had sobered and wanted to expel the fluids contained in his bladder. He knew however, that Scott would not forgive him if he found out, which he would because Stiles annoyingly tells Scott everything, so he made a quick decision, hoping Stiles wouldn’t hurl. “This would be easier if you let me….” He trailed off, not knowing if Stiles would reject to being carried. He let the thought go and just wrapped Stiles up, lifting him in the process.

                Stiles just looked blankly at him from where he was now cradled in Derek’s arms. Derek took that as a go and using his wolven abilities, began to bound up the stairs four at a time.

                Stiles let a smile spread across his face and let out a pleased exasperation, “WEEE! Two birthday rides in one night!”

                Derek almost let himself smile. Though he was normally stand-offish, he reveled in Stiles’ ability to be so carefree and open. Soon they were at the door though and he eased Stiles back to his own feet. “You can crash on the sofa if you promise not to blow chunks all over it.”

                “I make no promises. Maybe I should sleep in your bed instead?” It didn’t really sound like a question.

                “No. You’re drunk, and that’s a terrible idea.”

                “But it’s my birthday, Derek!”

                “It’s after 3am. Your ‘birthday’ ended three hours ago”

                “Spoil sport.” But Stiles was only mock offended. “Will you at least get me some water?”

                “Sure.”

                “….and maybe a bucket or trash can would be a good idea. You know, in case I do risk ruining your sofa.”

                “Definitely a good idea.”

                As they entered Derek’s loft, Stiles walked, oddly soberly in Derek’s opinion, over to the sofa and proceeded to burrow down into the cushions. Derek brought him a few bottles of water, making sure Stiles drank at least one full one before retreating into his own room to produce a spare pillow and blanket.

                When he came back into the main room, Stiles sat up and looked at Derek with half glazed eyes. “Thank you,” he stated simply after Derek handed him the two items he was carrying. “Bucket?”

                Derek retrieved the final item and began to retreat to his own bed, stopping to take one last look at Stiles over his shoulder. Stiles didn’t seem to notice though, so he went on ahead to his room and shut the door behind him.

 ***********

                Stiles woke early the next morning, greeted by the overly bright sun streaming in through the ridiculous wall of windows; ‘I mean seriously,’ he thought to himself, ‘who needs a whole fucking wall of windows?’ and a pounding in his head.

                He rolled over to try to shield his eyes from the sun by burying his face in the back of the sofa, barely taking notice of the silhouette standing out on the terrace. “Of course Derek is a morning person,” he grumbled into his pillow. He resolved himself to accept the morning and stood up to stretch the weariness out of his limbs. He walked over to the window, poised to knock on the glass to let Derek know that he was awake, when he heard the door to Derek’s room open. He looked over, startled as Derek strode into the room in his underwear and a black tank top. He just gawked for a moment before returning his gaze to the window, but nothing was there. He blinked a few times, and tried rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

                “What are you staring at?” Derek mused.

                “Uhh..umm..nothing I guess.” Stiles shook his head and chocked it up to an over active imagination. Then his imagination reminded him of something else, Derek was in his underwear. Stiles let out a bark of laughter,

                “What’s so funny?” Derek asked

                “Those,” Stiles stated as he pointed at Derek’s underwear. “Boxerbriefs? Seriously dude?”

                “What? They’re the hybrid of underwear. Kind of like how I’m the hybrid of wolves.”

                “HAHAHAH!” Stiles was openly laughing now. “That response just kind of, suits you. Its justifiable, in a completely random sort of way.

                Derek huffed and retreated back into his room to put on some sweats. When he came back out, Stiles was heading for the door. “You leaving?” Derek asked, slightly hopeful.

                “Thought I would go and pick us up some coffee. I’m still on the wrong side of town to simply walk home, so I was kinda hoping you wouldn’t mind giving me a ride.”

                “Sounds fair enough I suppose. You ok to make it _down_ the stairs?” Derek chuckled as Stiles faltered, vaguely remembering being scooped up by Derek and being carried in here. Stiles only allowed himself a brief moment to grieve for his pride, before opening the door and heading out.

                Forty-five minutes later, Stiles reentered the loft with an iced mocha late, with a splash of banana and whip cream clenched tightly by its rim in his jaw, and a large black coffee for Derek. He assumed Derek liked his coffee boring. That would be a correct assumption as he would later find out, but the sight he walked into stopped him for a moment. Derek was standing over the stove, wearing an apron, and humming to himself. Fucking humming! Dude was apparently a happy cook.

                “Hey, is that the song from lastnight? The one the weird girl was singing?”

                Derek turned around, eyes somewhat lost in thought before finally responding. “Yeah. I just can’t seem to get it out of my head.”

                Stiles rolled his eyes at the whole scene, approached Derek and handed him his coffee. The appreciative sip Derek took gave Stiles a feeling of self satisfaction. “Nailed it.” He whispered to himself.

                They ate a quick breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast, before heading out to Mahalo to pick up the camero and check on the state of everyone else.

                They arrived at Danny’s bar to see Parish’s police cruiser idling in the parkinglot, and the man himself, leaning up against Lydia’s car, locked in a rather unsettling kiss. It’s not that the kiss itself was awkward, but the tiniest bit of resentment crept into the pit of Stiles’ stomach. It’s not like he was still hung up on her, they had had an honest conversation about it the day they graduated from high school. Stiles approached her after the ceremony and laid it all out on the line. She had patted his cheek, kissed him, and told him no. Lydia only wanted Stiles ‘as is’ stating that she valued his friendship, apologized for how long it took her to get to that point, but told him that she didn’t feel the same way back. She wasn’t going to put Stiles into a one sided relationship.

                Parish and Lydia broke apart once they noticed the presence of Stiles and Derek. “Hey y’all,” Jordan chirped.

                “How was _your_ night, Stiles?” Lydia had a sly look in her eyes.

                “I’d rather not talk about it, or ever drink again I think.” Stiles looked slightly bashful as he got vague images of his actions the previous night. He was a little too flirty with Derek and he worried Derek might think less of him for it.

                “Well, that’s a shame. I was kind of rooting for this whole, ‘Sterek’ thing to happen.” Lydia was pure evil. Stiles could sense Derek’s head dropping behind him, so he quickly changed the subject.

                “You talk to Scott or Liam today? I noticed Liam’s rust bucket is gone.

                “Yeah,” Parish chimed in, “They just left about 5 minutes ago. I spoke with your dad this morning as well.”

                “What did he have to say?”

                “He’s actually enjoying his career change. Said that going into the private sector as an investigator with Argent was a bold but rewarding move. Apparently taking on ‘special cases’ helps him be more grounded with all that’s happened in this town. He has a better understanding for it.”

                “Well that’s refreshing.” Stiles seemed genuinely proud of his father. “Thanks for everything last night you guys.”

                Lydia looked over at Derek for a moment, a long moment, almost as if she was seeing through him, then snapped back when Parish kissed her good-bye.

                Derek and Stiles climbed into the camero, and proceeded to the Stilinski residence.

                Somewhere along the way, Derek started sniffing, catching a vaguely familiar scent. Stiles looked at him funny, “Dude, stop that. I know I need to shower.”

                “No, it’s not you. I know what your scent is, this is….something else.”

                “You _know_ _what my scent is?_ Let me just tuck that little nugget away for a later. If it’s not me, then what do you smell?”

                Derek pauses in thought for a moment, “the same thing from last night. Slightly salty, slightly sweet. Like the sea and peanut butter.”

                Stiles only has a moment to register the implications of Derek getting hung up on the mysterious scent before the radio kicks on. _“..and I’ll stay here, you’ll be gone for another year. The plans that I’ve made, are falling on deaf ears…”_

                “Well that was creepy,” Stiles exclaims nearly jumping to turn the radio back off. “What do you suppose that was about?”

                Derek doesn’t respond. He just looks blankly ahead and blasts past a stop sign.

                “Dude, I know I’m not a cop yet, but I’m pretty sure that was illegal, and also, dangerous. What if someone had hit us? We don’t all have super healing! ….. Derek? …. Derek?..... DEREK!” When Derek doesn’t respond and keeps barreling forward, Stiles punches him in the shoulder.

                Derek turns to him and growls. Actually growls! Now he’s looking at Stiles, teeth bared, and is still not showing any signs of stopping or slowing down. Stiles reaches into his pocket for the small vile Deaton gave him a few weeks ago for protection, and uncaps it. “Sorry, buddy. Please don’t kill me,” he pleads as him dumps the contents into his palm and blows mountain ash into Derek’s face.

                Derek coughs violently and slams on the brakes. Eyes burning, he bolts out of the car and into the thankfully deserted street. “Water,” he gasps.

                Stiles grabs the half drunken bottle he finds in Derek’s consol, and hands it to him. “What the HELL was that about?”

                “I’m not sure. It’s like I had no control over my wolf.”

                “Yeah,” Stiles agreed, “And he really is a sour one, aint he?” There was an awkward pause between them as Derek tried to collect himself. “You ok now, or should I drive the rest of the way?”

                “That….” Derek’s ears dropped a little, “that might not be a bad idea.”

                Stiles was mostly joking, he didn’t actually think that Derek would say yes. Derek got up and walked around to the passenger side of the car, Stiles was still a little surprised that he was about to get behind the wheel of the camero. He had had many fantasies about this car, and not all of them were purely sexual.

                He rather timidly stooped down and climbed behind the wheel, taking a moment to get settled, adjust the seat to accommodate his shorter-than-Derek’s legs, and adjusted the rearview mirror. Derek groaned from beside him. “It’s going to take me days to put all that back.”

                “Be grateful for those days. This could have gone a lot differently had you killed the both of us.” Stiles made one last check of everything, if he was going to get to fulfill one of his fantasies, he was going to get it right. He buckled his seat belt and took one last look in the mirrors when he noticed the silhouette standing behind the car, obscuring the sun so his features were cast in shadow. Stiles screeched and turned around to see who it was. The figure was just standing there, and Stiles felt a chill go up his spine.

                Derek turned his head to see what Stiles was staring at, but all he saw was an empty street. Before he could ask about it, Stiles hit the gas and took off like a bullet.

 *********

                Barring Stiles’ overly enthusiastic driving, because Stiles fully intended on getting as much out of the experience of driving Derek’s camero as he could in what should have been a 20 minute drive (he finished it in 13), the rest of the trip home was uneventful. They pulled into the drive of the Stilinski residence and Stiles put the car in park, looking over at Derek as he did so. Derek looked like he was going to hurl.

                “Maybe my killing us would have been the better option,” Derek squeezed out from between clenched teeth.

                “Need a puppy pad?”

                The resounding smack to the back of Stiles’ head left Derek feeling somewhat better, and more than a little satisfied. “Never again. You will never again be allowed inside this car. As a matter of fact, don’t even look at it!”

                “Bhh…” was the only sound Stiles could get out before he was interrupted.

                “Don’t even look at it Stiles! SHUT YOUR EYES!” Derek growled

                “DUDE! Don’t be so sour! I couldn’t help it! Dream, meet reality! This was basically your fault.” Stiles whimpered. “But I get it. I may have pushed it a little too far. Sorry, sourwolf.” Stiles stuck out his tongue on his last remark, but utilizing his supernatural speed, Derek snatched it.

                “I want to make something very clear, and I’m going to need you to be quiet and pay attention while I do so.” Derek was not in a forgiving mood. “That was dangerous, a fact in which you felt obligated to point out to me when I was wolfing-out. Don’t put your life at risk unnecessarily. No one wants to see you hurt, or worse, DEAD. This car, can be rebuilt. My bones, will heal. Your death….” Derek trailed off.

                “Bmy siyewh pftss”

                Derek looked over and realized he was still holding Stiles’ tongue. He released it and Stiles began to spit and hack.

                “Firstly,” pfft he spat again,” there is fur in my mouth now. Shave your knuckles if you are putting those digits near my mouth again, and secondly, I am sorry. I tend to get overly excited sometimes. I’m working on it.”

                Derek sighed, which Stiles took as an acceptance of his apology. “And thank you for last night,” Stiles breathed out. “You didn’t have to show up, but you did. You didn’t have to actually pick up the tab, but you did. And you definitely didn’t have to walk me to your home and take care of me. I appreciate that.” Having got that off his chest, Stiles tried to imbue his resolve with one last inkling of courage as he quickly leaned over and kissed Derek on the cheek.

                Before Derek had time to register what had just happened and what it implied, Stiles was already out of the car and walking into the house. He wasn’t used to seeing Stiles so genuine. It was usually a trait reserved only for Scott and his John.

                As Stiles closed the front door behind him, Derek heard the radio click on and that ominous song started drifting through the speakers. His eyes went blue, and with movements beyond his control, he shifted into the driver’s seat, put the car in gear, and took off back down the road.

                 To Stiles, it sounded as if Derek simply had somewhere else to be.

                Derek didn’t know where he was going, or why his body seemed to be acting of its own accord. He felt like a passenger again. Though his eyes were seeing, they didn’t focus on anything. His muscles were tense and felt heavy, but he could not relax them. He was prisoner in his own body. His thoughts began to race, throwing images of the ocean, of darkness, while sounds of weeping toned in with the music. A heavy weight beginning to burden his heart.

                Miles passed with him captive inside his fleshy prison. Through town, then just beyond. The panic began to reach a tipping point as it welled up inside him, but just as it was coming to a head, his body slowed the car, and he turned off onto a side road that lead him 3 miles through the woods and up to the edge of the Beacon County lake.

                The radio went silent, the car shut off, and Derek began to regain his facilities. “What the hell?” he said to no one in particular. Grrunhhh…. Grrrmfa…. Errrumbumbum…. Click click. The engine would not turn over when Derek tried to restart the ignition. He rested his forehead on the steering wheel in defeat. “FUCK!” he shouted as he pulled his phone from the consol. _‘Am I seriously about to call Stiles to pick me up? No, I’ll try Scott instead. He probably won’t make me eat shit for zoning out and driving to the middle of HFIL.’_ But as Derek flipped his phone on, the screen flashed at him that there was no service.

                Derek started laughing uncontrollably at his situation. Dead car, no phone, and miles away from civilization. _‘I guess there is just one option left to me.’_

Derek climbed out of his car and stripped off his clothes, readying for the transformation into wolf. An awkward cough behind him froze him in place.

                “Bit cold for skinny dippin’.”

                Derek registered a female voice, soft spoken, but with an underlying tone that rose and fell like the crashing of waves. _‘I didn’t hear anyone come up behind me…’_ The breeze shifted in his direction and he caught the scent of salt in the air, with a hint of sweetness and slightly nutty. He turned to see who was behind him. A woman, maybe in her late twenties stood there, eyes appraising his body. She looked downward and tilted her head slightly to the side.

                “Or…. Maybe it isn’t as cold as I thought.” She smiled before looking back up to meet his gaze.

                Derek, normally comfortable in his skin, suddenly felt very exposed. He moved to cover his indecency with his hands. He registered her as the girl from Danny’s bar. In an effort to regain some composure, he met her gaze with cold blue eyes, locking onto the gray-blue of her own.

                “My my, it even takes two hands to cover it up! Your father must have been very proud,” she snickered.

                “Would you mind, umm…., not staring so I can put some clothes back on?”

                “I think this view is just fine thanks,” she almost purred it out.

                Derek huffed in response and began to reach into his car for his pants.

                “Not quite yet, I’m afraid,” she said as a wicked grin began to spread across her face. Derek ignored her unsettling look and continued after his pants. “..And I’ll stay here, you’ll be gone for another year. The plans that I’ve made, are falling on deaf ears…” she began to sing. As she did so, the muscles in Derek’s body began to freeze. He dropped the pants he had acquired, and let his body follow suit as he dropped down to all fours.

                The singing grew louder, felt like it was coming from everywhere. Something within him fell into synch with the chiming of the music and he shifted into his full wolven form. The music ringing in his head till it was no longer discernible from his own thoughts. Derek tried to growl, tried to attack, but he was frozen. His body, unwilling to obey.

                The young woman let the song trail off until she had stopped singing entirely, but Derek could still hear it loud and clear. His mind went watery, fluid and malleable, and she knew she would be able to form it to her will.

                Derek padded over to where she was standing and sat down at her feet. Her hand went to his head and she casually scratched behind his left ear before running her fingers through the dense expanse of his fur.

                “Aren’t you a beautiful creature,” she said as she inspected her prize. “I think you’ll do swimmingly with the task to come.” The two of them walked down and into the lake. Derek had one last, unseeing look of the mid day sun before they both submerged. Other than the few bubbles that casually broke the surface of the still waters, there was no sign anyone was there. Just an abandoned camero and a pile of clothes.

 **********

                Stiles hated coming home to an empty house. He knew that his dad was off on a case with Argent, but it didn’t do much to settle his nerves. There was something about coming home to a place where he was so accustomed to having someone there, that the absence of his father hit him. It reminded him of how he felt after his mom died. He would come home from school, throw his bags on the sofa, and announce, “Mom, I’m home.” Then he would remember that she wasn’t there anymore. She would never be there…

                Trying to shake it off, Stiles pulled out his phone and called the one person that he knew could help him relax.

                “Yo! Scotty! What’s up, bro?” he asked.

                “Hey, Stiles! You finally make it home?”

                “Yeah. It’s been a crazy and kinda awesome day. You wanna come over? We can eat deliciously disgusting pizza and watch a movie!”

                “You’re not gonna try to make me sit through Star Wars again are you?” Scott was not interested in the saga, much to his bestie’s dismay.

                “No. I won’t torture you. I thought we’d watch something a little more on the nose. An American Werewolf in Paris?”

                “Hahaha!” Scott chuckled. “Dude, those wolves are so lame!”

                “True,” Stiles responded, “but I have a little bit of weed we can smoke before so that it seems more epicly awesome than it should.”

                “Aren’t you a little too….. Johnny Law to be doing that still?”

                “Not for a few more days, bud! Whatdaya say? You down?”

                Scott thought about it for a moment before responding. “Yeah. I’ll be there a little later. Liam and I are out patrolling the woods and… hey! Was that Derek’s car I just saw flying by?”

                “Probably. It was a strange day. He kinda just took off after we pulled up. Things were….weird earlier. I’ll tell you about it after you get here.”

                “Ok. See ya later.”

                “See ya later, Scott. Oh, and Scotty?”

                “Yeah?”

                “I LURVE you!” Stiles snickered as he said it, knowing full well that Scott’s beta could over hear their conversation.

                “Dude… your embarrassing me in front of Liam.”

                “Hey, if you don’t love me back, you don’t have to say it. It’s cool. I’ll just find someone else to be my best friend.”

                Scott sighed softly then responded quickly into the phone trying to save face in front of Liam and with Stiles, “Iloveyoutoo.” Then quickly ended the call.

                Feeling slightly pleased with himself and more comfortable with the empty house, Stiles went up stairs to grab a change of clothes and take a quick shower.

                Stiles loved shower time. The feeling of the hot water easing the tension from his body and the way it warmed him to his core made him feel at ease. He never really felt that warm, even now, years after his body had been invaded by the nogitsune, he would still get random chills like the icy hand of death lay on him.

                He lathered up and began to run through the positive moments of the last 24 hours in his mind. The amazing birthday party, driving the camero, kissing Derek. _‘I kissed Derek…’_ he thought to himself. He remembered the way Derek’s stubble tickled his lip and the way the soft skin felt underneath it. He began to picture the site of Derek in his boxerbriefs again, and the bulge he couldn’t help but notice underneath it. Stiles began to work up more than just a lather.

                Stiles placed two fingers in his mouth, trying to replicate the pressure Derek had had on his tongue, then he began to move his hand down his torso to the line of his happy trail that started just below his navel. Inching it closer down slowly, savoring in the imagery he had pictured in his mind. Further, and further he crept down himself, ready to grab hold of his hardening.

                Creek…. Creek….

                Stiles stopped. He thought he heard footsteps from outside the bathroom. “Scott? Is that you?” There was no response. “Scott?” …….. “Derek?” ….. “Hello?”

                Creeek….

                Stiles turned the water off and quickly got out. Someone was here. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it about his waist. He went and checked the front door. It was closed, but unlocked, which was common because who would honestly break in to the sheriff’s house? Ok, he thought to himself, former sheriff’s house. He checked the living room, kitchen, and even went into the laundry room just to make sure there was no one there.

                _‘Ok, Stiles, get it together.’_ He thought to himself. He began to make his way upstairs. Once he had reached the top step and had turned down the hall that led towards his room, he screamed in surprise. He was greeted by a very shaky, very quiet, girl with strawberry blond hair. Lydia stood perfectly still and placed her ear on the door to Stiles’ room.

                “Lydia, what are you doing?”

                “Shh,” she whispered. “I hear something.” She went quiet again and Stiles closed his mouth as he approached her.

                “What is it?” he whispered.

                “Shh….” She chided. “H..elp….me.”

                “Help you what?” Stiles asked.

                “SHHHH! Not ME! That’s what I hear. Someone is whispering ‘Help me.’”

                Stiles pulled her away from the door and reached for the knob. Lydia grabbed his hand and gave him a pleading look. “Stay behind me,” he told her as he slowly turned the knob and eased the door open.

                “There’s no one in here.” Lydia said as she took in the expanse of the somewhat dirty room. Stiles however, was not seeing the same thing. “Stiles, you’re shaking! And…you’re in a towel.”

                “Lydia, call Deaton.” Stiles whispered in a trembling voice.

                “Why?” She asked in earnest.

                “Because you said there was no one in here. But if there is no one in here, then who is standing in front of my bed?”

                _‘Help me…… please’_

                Lydia could hear the voice more clearly now, whisping softly in her ears. Her eyes could still not see anyone though.

                “Lydia, PLEASE CALL DEATON.” Stiles’ voice was urgent so Lydia reached into her purse and picked up her phone. As she dialed the number, Stiles kept his eyes locked on the mysterious man.

 ******

                At the sound of Deaton’s arrival, Stiles instinctively turned towards his window. He turned back immediately as it occurred to him that he had taken his eyes off the metaphorical prize, but as the dying rays of sun reflecting of Deaton’s windshield pierced the shadowy haze of Stiles’ room, the man vanished in a flash of the light.

                “Damn it!” Stiles expelled. “I lost him again!”

                “What are you talking about?” Lydia asked.

                “I’ll explain when Deaton’s inside.”

                Lydia headed downstairs to let the vet in as Stiles removed his towel and changed into some clothes. He joined them downstairs just as Deaton was sitting down on the couch.

                “So what is this all about, Stiles?” the doctor asked.

                “I think I’m being followed.” He said quite flatly. It wasn’t that he wasn’t unnerved by the experience, but a lifetime in Beacon Hills and years of battling the supernatural have left him somewhat accustomed to the weird of the town.

                “Care to elaborate?” Lydia smarted.

                “Well,” he started as Deaton and Lydia fixed their eyes on him, “It started lastnight when I was walking home from Danny’s. I almost bumped into someone walking down the street towards me and Derek.”

                “Did you get a good look at him?” Deaton asked.

                “No, not really. He was sort of, shadowed. Like even though he was right in front of me, his features were obscured.”

                “Go on”

                “He was headed straight at us, like he didn’t see us or something. So when he got close and it looked like we might bump into each other, I moved out of the way and said, ‘Excuse me.’”

                “So well mannered,” Lydia imputed.

                “Lydia, please let him finish.” Deaton chided. “Did he say anything to you?”

                “No. He kinda just looked….. I don’t know..surprised.”

                “Hmmm… what else?”

                “Well, I didn’t think much of it then. I was kind of out of it with it having been my 21st and all, so naturally I had a lot to drink that night. But the next morning when I woke up, I saw him again at Derek’s. I actually thought it was Derek, until Derek came grumbling out of his room.”

                “Missed opportunity there.” Lydia said under her breath. Stiles just shot her a questioning look.

                Stiles dismissed her snide remark and continued, “But when I looked back at where the dude was standing out on Derek’s balcony, he had vanished. The next time I saw him was later that day after a rather strange incident with Derek wolfing out while driving me home. There is a side story there, and we’ll get into that weirdness in a bit, but this mysterious dude was just lurking behind the camero when we had stopped.”

                “I’ve already heard some of that. Scott called me earlier when he and Liam found Derek’s car abandoned out on the far end of the lake.” Deaton was starting to look worried, but you could tell he was working something out. “So this fourth time you saw him, what happened?”

                “I came out of my shower to find Lydia creeping on my bedroom, something I had spent many a high school night fantasizing about, towel not always included,” Stiles winked at Lydia as she rolled her eyes and huffed at him. “She was listening, ya know, doing her banshee thingy-ma-bob, and then she heard, ‘help me.’ Upon entering the room, she declared it clear, but I could clearly see him. Sorta. Still same shady visage as previously, but he was right in front of me. I could distinctly make out his intense violet colored eyes. He asked for help again and that’s when I had Lydia call you.”

                “Hmm…” Deaton pondered to himself. “Ok, one last question. When he disappeared this time, which I am making an assumption that he did based on your not staring wildly at nothing, what did you see?”

                “I’m not really sure I saw anything. He just sort of…vanished.” Stiles concluded.

                “Stiles, are you sure you didn’t notice anything else? Some sort of interaction, or anything that might signify where or how he went?”

                Stiles replayed the ordeal in his mind, then his eyes widened. “Yes! The light reflecting from your car hit him. THEN he vanished!”

                “And you are sure that’s everything? He just sort of shows up, then goes, but doesn’t interact with you directly?” Deaton asked with a very serious face.

                “Yeah, I suppose so. He is kind of acting like a creepy but harmless stalker.” Stiles laughed at the thought that rushed through his mind of being famous in the supernatural world.

                “Well, that is interesting.” Deaton drew out. I can’t be 100% sure, but it sounds like you might be dealing with a Nephilim.

                Stiles deadpans, face completely blank.

                Deaton pulls out his phone upon hearing the familiar ringtone he had assigned to the members of the pack, “Feeding the Wolves.” He was not one to normally listen to heavy music, having preferred instrumental and classical because it is more pure and connected in his opinion, but when Stiles had snatched his phone while at the vet’s office one day and changed it without his knowledge, he found himself surprisingly amused by the self-satisfied expression on Stiles’ face as the boy dialed it from his own phone, not so hiddenly in his pocket. Deaton never got around to changing it back and it just became sort of a thing. This time however, it was Scott who was calling.

                “Hello? ….. You what? ….Where was this? Ok, bring him to my office.” Deaton hung up and looked at Stiles and Lydia. “We need to get to the clinic.” Though his voice was calm and controlled as usual, Stiles could see a degree of tense worry stretching out from Deaton’s eyes.

                “What happened?” Stiles asked, curiosity peeked at the frowning of Deaton’s eyes.

                “It seems they’ve found Derek. Lydia, you’d better come with us. I have a feeling we might need you.”

                Stiles tensed, mind making connections he didn’t want to voice out loud. Either Deaton was going to need some heavy help with his supernatural chemistry lab, or, and Stiles really didn’t want to admit this part, they were going to need a banshee to determine the reason for a dead body.

 ********

                Stiles, Lydia, and Deaton walked into the clinic to be met by a panicked Scott. As Scott ushered them into the back, Deaton paused to ask a favor of Lydia, “Lydia, there is a small switch mounted to the upper right corner of the door frame, would you mind flipping it for me?”

                Lydia turned and felt the corner of the door where she noticed a slightly raised bump in the ashwood, one that could almost have been mistaken as a knot in the grain itself. She pressed down and felt the frame go warm around it, soon spreading throughout the rest of the door. “Deaton,” she called after the man moving into the next room, “what did I just do?”

                “You turned on the lights,” was the response she got, but nothing actually looked different. She accepted Deaton’s answer, knowing that he probably knew something she didn’t, and proceeded into the back where everyone else was standing above a somewhat lifeless looking Derek.

                “WHAT HAPPENED?!” Stiles freaked. “Is he dead? Oh my god, he IS dead! Come back to us, Derek! Don’t go into the light!”

                “Stiles, calm down. He is not dead. Just very nearly,” Scott supplied.

                “How can you be sure?” Stiles asked, eyes wetting.

                Scott taps his ears and points to Derek’s bare chest, indicating for Stiles to listen. Stiles leans in and rests his head over Derek’s heart.

                Ba-bump………ba-bump…….ba-bump. Its quiet and very drawn out, but there is still a heart beating in there. At the sound of it, Stiles lets the wetness in his eyes fall as a tear streams out and onto Derek’s chest.

                “Someone please tell me what’s going on,” Stiles whimpers.

                “We found him out by the lake on our way back through,” Scott supplies. “He was lying on the shore, unresponsive, and soaking wet like he had washed up there. Liam helped me get him into the camero and we drove him over here. That’s about the extent of it.”

                “Stiles,” Deaton turns his attention to the shaky young man, “I think we need to discuss the incident you were talking about earlier when you said Derek, ‘wolfed-out.’ What happened before that?”

                “He was taking me home, and everything seemed normal, but then the radio kicked on and he zoned out. Like he couldn’t hear me. It was a strange song. The one a girl was singing at Danny’s lastnight. Come to think of it, Derek was humming the song this morning as well.”

                “When you guys showed up this morning, “Lydia interrupted, “there was a moment where I thought I saw something.”

                “What did you see?” Liam asked from his position beside Scott.

                “Well, and I can’t be too sure about this, but there was a moment, when it looked as if Derek was wet. Not in a perspiring sort of way, but like actual, dripping water streaming off his body. His eyes were an offset of the blue they normally are. A deeper, gray-blue, staring out of them, but not at me. He was looking at Stiles.”

                They all turn to look at Stiles. “I’m so confused right now.”

                “Can anyone remember the song?” Deaton asks, eyebrows furring in concentration to take in the information.

                Stiles pulls the lyrics from his head and begins to hmm the tune, when he thinks he’s got the beat right, he sings the lyrics, eyes refusing to leave Derek. “…And I’ll stay here, you’ll be gone for another year. The plans that I’ve made, are falling on deaf ears. I’m beside myself, now that you are gone, I’m beside myself, now that you are gone…” His voice wavers towards the end of it. The song having an effect on him emotionally with the site of his nearly dead friend laid out before him.

                “It’s a Siren Song,” Lydia mumbled from her stand-off location from the rest of the pack.

                “Very astute, Lydia,” Deaton commended, “How did you come by that conclusion?”

                “Because,” she stammered, “because someone is whispering it in my ear.”

                The pack all look up from Derek and over at a very still, Lydia. Their faces shocked, except for Stiles who sees the shadowy visage of a man standing in the corner behind her, and Deaton, who has a slight grin twitching at the corner of his mouth.

                “I think our guest has arrived,” Deaton comments. “Lydia, you can relax, dear. He isn’t going to harm you in here.”

                “Deaton,” Stiles whispers, eyes locked behind Lydia, “did you bring my stalker here? That seems a bit…dangerous.”

                “What?” Scott and Liam chime in unison.

                “What are you looking at Stiles?” Scott asks, eyes going red. “I don’t see anything different.” Scott lets out a low, protective growl at the tenseness of the room. The shadowy man seems indifferent to it.

                “How did _it_ even get in here?” Stiles asks of Deaton.

                “That’s a very peculiar question, Stiles. I imagine he got in here in the same way that only you are able to see it. I know you don’t like to think about it, but remember how the nogitsune chose you?” Deaton asked.

                “That psychotic fuck ruined me, of course I remember! Are you saying this,” Stiles pointed in the direction of Lydia, “this fuck is trying to do the same thing? I thought we closed that door after you tried to drown me, again.” Stiles’ memory flashed to when he and Deaton preformed the Bardho ritual to re-anchor him to this reality.

                “Don’t worry Stiles,” Deaton spoke softly to calm the nerves of his friend down, “that door is closed, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be reopened. He’s,” and he gestured towards the corner over Lydia’s shoulder, who was still standing there a little freaked out, “not going to be able to push it open unless you allow him to, but there are cracks in your mental block.”

                “What do you mean there are cracks in it?” Scott asked. “Does that mean it’s coming down?”

                “No, Scott, and definitely no, Stiles,” Deaton responded to calm the two of them down. “The cracks are just there. There are cracks in everything, that’s how the light gets in.”

                “Did you just quote Leonard Cohen at him?” Lydia asked. The cogs in her mind beginning to turn as she registered Deaton’s earlier request of ‘turning the lights on.’ “Did this have anything to do with me hitting that button on your door?”

                “Yes, actually,” Deaton supplies. “If I have my old testament lore about the Nehpilim correct, when they are still in their incorporeal form, they can actually use fragments of light to travel from one place to another. They can’t go everywhere, mind you, but anywhere that is connected directly or indirectly to the light’s original source. Much like the way wind can pass through the air, but not through buildings. It’s a bit of a broken analogy, but basically, if two lights touch, he can jump from one to the next, but any place that is shadowed, is like hitting a wall.”

                “So, basically he is like Mufassa? King of everything the light touches.” Liam cuts in with a quizzical but amused expression.

                “I wouldn’t put it so blandly,” Deaton interjects, “but yes. That’s an apt way of stating it.”

                “Ok, great,” Stiles pleads, “but would you mind telling us why you apparently invited him here?”

                Deaton sighs and looks over at Lydia. “There is a bigger picture here that we can’t see. I was hoping that Lydia would be able to act as our bridge and communicate with him. Lydia,” he looks into her eyes, trying to center her attention on anything but the whispering in her head, “Would you mind drinking something to help the process along?”

                Lydia stares at him a moment, “My powers don’t just turn on and off. Yes I’ve become more intune with them, but if there was a potion to help the process out, I’d like to believe you’d have given it to us by now.”

                “This isn’t quite like that. It will only help you out because there is an actual presence in the room. Normally your abilities align with the fragments of the emotional stain left behind when deaths occur, but with us having the actual presence here, I’m hoping that we will be able to basically tune your hearing into his frequency.”

                “Is it dangerous, doc?” Scott asks. He wants to source out whatever is going on, but he doesn’t want to risk Lydia in the process.

                “Everything carries with it a certain degree of danger, but this should be minimal.” Deaton walks over to a small cabinet on the back wall and pulls out vial with an oak etched onto the front. “This is a mixture of several mild relaxants from the Cannabaceae strain of plants and some shavings from the Nematon.”

                “Weed? You’re going to give Lydia a mixture of magical death tree and WEED?” Stiles did not look thrilled.

                “Remember, Stiles, the Nematon wasn’t inherently evil. It was once a very respected and holy place that the druids used to focus their magic, Mrs. Blake just used it for the wrong reasons.”

                “Fine,” Stiles conceded, “the Nematon isn’t evil, but seriously? Weed? You wanna get Lydia stoned?”

                “Stiles!” Lydia quipped, “If it helps, I’ll take the risk of whatever the super stoner bottle over there has to offer.”

                Deaton furrowed his brow, “This is actually just supposed to calm you down, and put you into a more relaxed, trance like state…”

                “See! Super stoner!” Stiles points in the direction of Deaton.

                “As I was saying,” Deaton trudges along as if he wasn’t rudely interrupted, “it’s supposed to put you into a more relaxed, trance like state. This way your powers will work more naturally without your conscious mind trying to subdue them. We will need the Nehpilim to play his part as well.” Everyone looks towards the corner where Stiles still sees the figure standing patiently behind Lydia.

                “I think he knows what you’re intending to do, “Lydia whispers out “He hasn’t said anything else since we’ve started planning this out and  he feels somewhat at ease with being in a room where we’re all discussing him like he isn’t here.”

                “Well, he isn’t there.” Stiles says, a bit of a clip to his voice. “I don’t mean that as in he left. I can still see him lurking behind Lydia, but speaking as someone who spent a great deal of time trying to be noticed by someone who couldn’t exactly see you…. Is kind of like that. Being invisible” Stiles looks from Lydia over to where Derek is still lying undisturbed on the table. A sigh caught in his throat. “Ok, are we going to do this? What do you need from the rest of us?”

                Deaton starts giving out directions as the pack begins to get the things he needs together. Everyone is nervous, but inside, Stiles is slightly excited. Though it usually doesn’t work out as intended, he does enjoy watching Deaton do his Druid thing. The Vet rarely openly practices and Stiles likes catching glimpses of the man’s hidden power.

                The room goes silent as Stiles, Scott, Liam, and Lydia watch Deaton pull a chair into the center of the available space. “Please take a seat, Lydia,” Deaton asks of the timid girl. As she does so, he hands her the bottle of powdered ash and ‘special herbs.’ Lydia looks at it questioningly, trying to will herself through whatever is to come next.

                “So what should we be doing?” Stiles ponders aloud.

                “Be patient, and quiet. I can’t stress the quiet part enough,” Deaton says as he eyes Stiles.

                Stiles looks mock offended, but registers that he does have a tendency to open his mouth without thinking. “What I mean is, should we be holding hands, or chanting? Maybe light some candles?”

                “Why, are you trying to summon a spirit?” Deaton quirks.

                “NO!” Stiles rebuts. “Aren’t you?”

                Deaton just laughs. “No. Why would I do that when we already have one here?”

                The shadowy figure in the corner seems to vibrate from his chest. It appears to Stiles that the man is coughing…. No, laughing. The man is definitely laughing. Stiles jaw drops at the incredulity of it, being mocked by a metaphorical ghost. Stiles, shakes it off, and swears to himself not to let the others know what just happened, sparing his dignity.

                “Ok, Lydia,” Deaton starts, his face taking the familiar serious façade they are accustomed to seeing, “I want you to open the bottle and swallow a portion of it down. It’s going to be bitter, and it’s going to make you want to cough. Try to fight that reflex. We don’t want your body to expel the dust before we have finished. Is that understood?”

                Lydia nods her head and uncorks the stopper. She inspects the contents within, releasing a sigh that she had been holding back, then, shakes a small amount into her mouth, trying to swallow it down without gagging. She hacks into her own mouth, but keeps her lips tightly sealed so as not to let the concoction escape. Once she has accomplished this, she looks up at Deaton, awaiting her next instructions.

                “Very good, Lydia. Ok, in a few moments, once your body has begun to take in the mixture, I want you to pour out a little more into your mouth, but this time, and this is very important, do not swallow it down. In order for his words to flow through you, the herbs must be laced into the tissues of your mouth.” Deaton looks from Lydia to Stiles, “Can you still see our guest in the back?”

                Stiles gives the vet a thumbs up, remembering to be quiet so as not to affect, whatever is supposed to be going on.

                “Ok,” this time Deaton address the corner, looking somewhat foolish to anyone but Stiles, who can see the recognition of the mysterious stranger as he acknowledges that Deaton is addressing him directly. “I’m going to need you to come and place a hand on the nap of Lydia’s neck.” Deaton looks back to Lydia. “This is going to get very strange for you. Some people have reported having sensed something, others could feel a slight touch, and there have been some, very few, have stated that it felt a lot like being strangled.”

                Lydia’s eyes go wild as the memory of being strangled creeps into her thoughts. Stiles senses the fear and tension welling inside the young girl and moves to comfort her. “It’s going to be ok, Lydia.” Stiles tries to sooth her by rubbing his hand in small circles between her shoulder blades. “I’ve got my eye on him, and if he tries anything, we’ll end it. Ok? You are safe here.”

                Lydia looks up at Stiles and gives him a wary smile. Letting the tension ease from her body as the herbs began to take hold. “Ok,” Lydia tries to state as calmly as possible. She raises the bottle back to her lips and lets the ashes fall onto her tongue.

                Deaton looks back to the corner and away from Lydia, “Ok, please come over and place your hand on Lydia.” Deaton points to the area just above her clavicle.

                Stiles watches apprehensively as the figure approaches and reaches out his hand. He lowers it to rest gently on Lydia. Lydia’s eyes roll back and her head slouches down. It hangs there limp for a moment, resting on the visage of the shadowy hand, then it jerks up and Deaton knows the herbs have taken full affect. Lydia begins to speak, but the voice is scratchy, layered with one other than her own.

                _“Mic check….testing…one two, one two”_ A crisp laugh stretches from Lydia’s mouth. _“I wasn’t expecting this to actually work. HELLO BEACON HILLS!”_

                “Oh, my, GOD!” Stiles cuts in. “We have a ghost with a sense of humor. A very BAD sense of humor. Is this for real?”

                “Be quiet, Stiles,” Deaton chides. “Name yourself, Nephilim”

                _“My name is Nataous.”_

“What is your purpose here?” Deaton asks, voice low but stern.

                _“To make one, whole again.”_

                “Cryptic much?” Stiles mumbles to himself. The only one to hear is Liam, who just sends a knowing smile at Stiles in agreement.

                “What happened to Derek?” Scott asks, eyes going to his former alpha. “Is this your doing?”

                _“He has fallen victim to the siren’s call.”_

                “What does that even mean?” Stiles asks, fear welling in his gut.

                _“She takes something from them, trying to fill a void inside herself. Consider him lucky.”_

                “Lucky? LUCKY!?” Stiles yells at the gossamer figure. “How is this lucky?” Stiles points to Derek, a tear wetting the bottom of his eyes.

                _“Most men die.”_

                Everyone goes still as they consider what could have happened.

                _“The heart in the one you call, Derek, is strong. It beats of a will of its own.”_

“What did she do to him?” Stiles asks, the anger subsiding in his voice.

                _“What she does to all those she ensnares. She takes from them what was lost to her.”_

                “What is your part in all of this?” Deaton cuts to the point. He knows that the herbs in Lydia’s system will run their curse soon and wants as much information as he can get before the girl wakes from her trance.

                _“In the events that have transpired, I have no part. I merely seek the Siren. I wish to put an end to her suffering.”_

                ”And how do you intend to accomplish that when you cannot cross into our physical plane?” Deaton has an intrigued expression on his face as if he’s already worked it out.

                Nataous looks from Lydia, where he had been concentrating on the formations of her mouth, trying to sync it to his own, and glances slowly over at Stiles. _“With the help of Stiles.”_

                The room focuses their attention away from Lydia and over to Stiles. Stiles lets his mouth open, words forming on the tip of his tongue, but Lydia begins to cough and falls forward from the chair, wisps of ash rising from between her lips as the magic loses hold. “Oh my god, you guys,” she chokes out between gasps. “Jackson and Danny used to bring over some good shit, but that, that was something else.”

                Deaton crosses the room to grab a bottle of water for Lydia from his fridge as the others try to raise her from where she is now seated on the floor. Stiles looks for Nataous, but he is nowhere to be seen. “I think our company just bailed,” he says in a somewhat relieved voice. “What was that like, Lydia?”

                “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” she replies. “I was waiting for that moment of terror to hit, for the worst to happen and to feel like I was being strangled all over again, but it didn’t. It mostly just felt…..warm. Almost soothing.”

                They are all huddled around Lydia when they hear a groaning come from across the room. Derek begins to twitch and slowly rise. “W…what happened?” he stutters.

                Deaton approaches him tentatively, “You were attacked by a siren. How are you feeling?”

                “A little foggy, like my head is full of water.”

                Stiles chuckles as a grin spreads across his face. The obvious joke laying on the tip of his tongue. His humor is short lived however as Derek takes in the room. Derek begins to growl, eyes locked on Stiles.

                “Whoa, sourwolf! I knew you weren’t a friendly puppy when you woke up, but this is a bit much, even for you!” Stiles says as he tries to approach Derek.

                “Get away from me,” he growls in response.

                “Hey, what the hell did I do to you?” Stiles responds, the hurt evident in his voice.

                “I don’t know you,” Derek snarls from between his growing fangs.

                “Take it easy, Derek,” Scott cuts in. “It’s just Stiles. You know Stiles, right?”

                “I know you, Scott, and I know Lydia, Deaton, and even your whelp of a beta, Liam, but that boy over there, is a stranger to me.”

                Stiles moves an inch closer to Derek and the wolf snaps his fangs in Stiles’ direction. The sound of his heart breaking is almost audible. The wind picks up outside as the sounds of rain begin to patter heavily on the roof. The power in the building goes dark as a melancholy chorus starts to permeate through the clinic.

                Derek goes silent, ears perked up in transformation as if he is hearing more than the rest of them. Scott and Liam begin to whimper and collapse towards the floor. Derek lets the shift consume him as he goes full wolf, standing on all fours upon the operating table. The melody picks up tempo and the octaves grow deeper, more profound, and something ominous happens. Derek begins to grow in size.

                He begins as his regular wolf, then starts to become more stout, muscles growing thicker about his body. The sound of bones breaking cuts through the din of wind, rain, and song as Derek becomes taller to match his expanding girth. When the transformation finally subsides, Derek is three times his original size, standing slightly shorter than a horse, and looking way more ferocious.

                Before the pack has a moment to take in the overwhelming scene before them, Derek, leaps from the table and bounds out of the building, taking off into the night. The haunting song, fading out in his wake.

 *********

                The pack tries to piece together the events that have unfolded before them, Stiles makes for the door to chase after Derek, Scott and Liam in tow when Deaton shouts for them to stop. “That is an ill thought out idea.” Deaton says. “You won’t be able to catch him if he doesn’t want to be found, not to mention we still aren’t entirely sure what the Siren has done to him. In his new state of transformation, he could do an obscene amount of damage to anyone who gets in his way.”

                “What are we supposed to do then, just sit around and wait for Derek to snap out of it?” Stiles retorts, a pleading look in his eyes. Stiles can’t stop picturing the way Derek looked at him, with no recognition, the harsh sounds of his growl as he barred his fangs at Stiles, but mostly, the complete look distrust in the wolf’s eyes.

                “Liam and I could follow his scent and see where he goes.” Scott is just as confused by the situation and the thought of doing nothing makes him pace frantically.

                “I don’t believe that would be a good idea either.” Deaton starts to pick up the pieces of equipment that are now scattered about the room as he talks, processing as he does so. “Judging by the reaction Scott and Liam had to the siren’s song, I believe that they are more susceptible to the high pitched tones and the swaying of the emotions that are caused. When she started singing, the two of you dropped in pain, where as Lydia and Stiles seemed unaffected. I haven’t brushed up on my Greek lore recently, but I do believe that a siren is a kindred to a banshee. Lydia may very well be immune to the song, Stiles on the other hand….” Deaton trails off, lost in a thought he is reluctant to voice. “I don’t believe that Stiles is immune, I believe he is unwittingly playing a part in it.”

                “What are you telling me?” Stiles pleads. “Please just give me a straight answer. I don’t think I can handle any more riddles tonight.” Stiles instinctively looks to the now vacant corner where the Nephilim was standing only moments before.

                “Again,” Deaton starts, “I’m not 100% sure on this, but unlike all those epic poems would have you believe, not all sirens merely seek to draw men to their deaths. It could be that Derek will be alright, given the circumstances. Judging by what I saw, and the reactions Derek had to Stiles specifically, I believe the siren did something else to him. More adequately stated, I think she _took_ something from him.”

                “What, like the memory of me?” Stiles asks.

                “Sort of, but I believe it goes deeper than that. Some supernaturals aren’t born the way Derek was, they are turned. Scott for example was turned by the bite of an alpha, and then Scott eventually turned Liam the same way.” Scott looks over to Liam with an apologetic look in his eyes, but Liam just smiles at him, having fully accepted his place in their world. “Then there is the case of Lydia, who was a supernatural all along, but it took a traumatic ordeal to awaken that side of her. I think this may be the case with our siren.”

                “So you think something bad happened to her,” Lydia states. “Something physical or emotional that may have awoken her siren powers?”

                “I do, Lydia. A normal siren, having been born and raised into that world, would behave the same as we are accustomed to hearing about, but one that is sparked from emotional damage such as loss or longing would in turn feed off the same feeling brought out in others.” Deaton pauses a moment to look sternly at Stiles, waiting for what he is actually trying to say to sink in.

                “So, based on that analogy,” Lydia chimes in, “you believe that the siren pulled the sense of loss and longing from Derek. And based on his reaction to Stiles, Id say the target of those feelings are rather clear.”

                Stiles stammers, his jaw hanging open as the shock of Lydia’s words wash over him. “So… you’re saying that all this is happening because the sourwolf has feelings for me?”

                “I think it goes deeper than that,” Scott whispers just loud enough to be heard.

                “What do you mean?” Stiles asks, eyes boring into Scott.

                “Well, he told me once that he respected you, maybe even admired you.”

                “How so, Scott?” Stiles’ interest peeks over his worry for the moment.

                “Well, it was a while ago, when we were training, and the topic of you…just sort of came up. He was heckling me about spending so much time with Liam, and how he and I would patrol some nights and not tell you about it so you wouldn’t worry. He said you would start getting jealous if you found out. Asked if maybe you would be on the market for a new ‘bestie.’ I thought he was joking, but then he got all serious Derek face for a moment, and said that he was proud to have you in the pack. He had never known someone to fight so hard for his friends, to willingly risk their own life for a cause other than their own. He talked about the night that Peter offered you his bite. Derek got all quiet and said that he had never known anyone to fight so hard, and yet refuse the offer of power. The kind of power that most people would kill for. Dude, I think he has been carrying a torch for you since that night.”

                Stiles is awestruck. Knowing that Derek had feelings for him and seeing them taken away in one night overwhelms him a little and he goes to take a seat on the gurney where Derek was laying. “Ok, so, even if that’s true, that’s only one side of the equation. He hasn’t lost me, I’m still right here.”

                Scott ponders that for a moment before coming to a conclusion, “maybe he doesn’t have to. Maybe it’s the fear of losing you. A mortal man, fighting in a supernatural war, think about it. What other eventuality could a mind like Derek’s come to after what had happened to his family?”

                Stiles doesn’t know how to respond. He just sits quietly on the table, kicking his feet at the air as he tries to process all the information. “Do you guys think the same thing? About me dying, I mean?”

                “Not anymore,” Scott jumps in, “but the first few years were rough. I mean, you’re my best bro. I wouldn’t know what to do if something happened to you. But now, we can all see that you are more than capable of holding your own.”

                “Mmm.” Stiles just mutters, head down at the thought of his best friend coddling him.

                “Sorry, Stiles.” Scott walks over and places his arms around Stiles.

                Stiles opens to the embrace and forgives him, accepting that it was in the past. “So what are we supposed to do now?”

                Everyone looks to Deaton for the answer but Deaton just shakes his head. “I’m sorry, but we are in unfamiliar territory here. Even if we do manage to find Derek and the siren, we still have no way of knowing how to defeat her, or if we can even change Derek back.”

                “I have a feeling that we know someone who does,” Liam cuts in, breaking the depressive silence. “How do we get in touch with that Nehpilim again?”

                This time it is Stiles who has the answer. “I’m not sure if there is a way for us to find him, but I don’t think we are going to have to. We have been seeing a lot of each other over the last 2 days, and since he said he was planning on using me to help him, I doubt that we’ll have to go much longer before he makes another appearance.”

                Deaton picks up the bottle with the oak on the front of it, and Lydia eyes it expectantly, waiting for Deaton to hand it back to her, but he doesn’t. Instead, he walks over and places it in Stiles’ hands. “I know you can’t speak for the dead, but I believe an exception has been made with the way you can already see him. Maybe the cracks in the seal in your mind are getting bigger. With a little coaxing, you may be able to communicate with him directly. Take this with you, go home, and if something happens, call me. I’ll walk you through it. Also, you should not be alone tonight. I don’t know what all this siren is planning, but if she is feeding off of Derek’s feelings towards you, she could quite possibly come after you next. Bringing it full circle does seem like a rational course for her to take.”

                “I’ll go with him,” Scott says. “We can have an old fashioned slumber party like the good ole days!” Scott tries to hide a playful grin. He still feels like he needs to make up for voicing his doubts about Stiles when they were first coming to terms with the supernatural.

                Stiles just rolls his eyes and laughs. “Good ole days? Dude, we had a sleepover last week when Kira left and you were all weepy about her being out of town for two months. I believe your exact words were, ‘What if she likes Japan too much and never comes back?’”

                “BRO CODE DUDE!” Scott punches Stiles lightly on the shoulder, and all is right between them.

 ******

That night as they are preparing to bunker down in Stiles’ room, Scott looks questioningly at Stiles. “Stiles? Are you worried about what Deaton said? I mean, about the cracks getting larger in your mental block?”

                Stiles takes a moment to collect his thoughts. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it since the words came out of the vet’s mouth. “Honestly, yes, but at the same time no.”

                Scott stares at him for a moment, an eyebrow raised in question as he waits for Stiles to elaborate.

                “I remember how bad it got with the trickster demon. I actually have full memories now of everything we… _he_ did. I remember feeling helpless and trapped behind my own eyes as he stabbed you. And, the other terrible things that happened, but at the same time,” Stiles pauses while he tries to find a voice for the right words, “if I can find a way to use this to my advantage, to help in this fight, then I am willing to put myself through whatever needs to be done.”

                Scott notices the resolved expression on Stiles’ face and feels a moment of profound pride wash over him. “I get it.”

                “What was that, bro?”

                “I think I understand what Derek had said to me. I’ve always known you as, well, just you. My best friend Stiles,” Scott grins up at him from where he is laid out in his sleeping bag on the floor. “But what he told me about you fighting, even when it wasn’t your battle, even when the risks out way the benefit, you’ve always just pushed ahead. Never asking for more than what has been given to you to fight with.” Scott takes a moment before voicing his next thought. “Stiles, in some ways, I think you are even stronger than me. Sure I’ve got powers and everything, but the way you push forward with blind courage and faith in the pack…… it takes a man bigger than me to walk into a supernatural fight, armed with nothing more than a baseball bat.” Scott has his head slumped down as he speaks the last part, and doesn’t see as Stiles crept closer to the edge of his bed. Just as he trails off, Stiles is on top of him, hugging him.

                “Thanks, bro. Seriously.” Stiles climbs back into his bed and cuts out the lamp on the night stand. He settles in for what he feels will be a long night.

                Stiles opens his eyes midway through the night when he feels himself being watched. He looks around the room apprehensively before seeing the violet eyes peering at him from the corner by his desk. “Scott? Hey, Scott…” he whispers, trying to wake his friend. “Scott!” he yells, but the werewolf sleeps soundly on.

                “He cannot hear you.” He hears the voice whispering to him.

                “What did you do to him?” Stiles demands.

                “Nothing, he is sleeping, as are you.”

                It is then that it registers to Stiles that he can actually hear the Nephilim talking to him. “What do you want from me?” he asks of the dark figure.

                “I want to tell you a story, Stiles.” The creature moves from the shadows and approaches the bed warily, violet eyes locked into the browns of Stiles’ own. “You said that you were willing to do whatever needs to be done, so, are you willing to listen?”

                Stiles is unsure of how to respond, but considering what is at stake, he releases the tension welling inside himself and eases back into a sitting position on the bed. “Ok, speak,” he says.

                “What I have to tell you, cannot be spoken. You must see for yourself if you are to believe in what needs to be done.” The Nephilim steps closer, knees now brushing the edge of the bed as he moves up the side and takes his place, standing beside the sitting Stiles. “Are you still willing to hear this story?”

                Stiles gazes up, locking eyes with the shadowy visage of the creature before him. “Yes,” he states simply.

                The Nephilim raises his hand and places it on the back of Stiles’ head, never looking away from Stiles’ heavy stare. “Close your eyes and open your mind to me. Feel my thoughts and let them flow through you in this dream state we are in.”

                Stiles opens his mouth to voice his fear, “The last time I let a spirit into my head, it destroyed me and my friends. Countless lives were ruined, and death played its part. Can you tell me this will not happen again?”

                The Nephilim stirs, trying not to let the fear growing in Stiles dissuade him from their connection. “Subconsciously you have already accepted me. I cannot give you the words that you wish to hear, and you know if they are truth. However, if you had not already accepted what needs to be done, then I would not be able to have come into your dream, such as we are now. Trust and faith are freely given, and I do not ask for yours, but for you to bear witness to what I need you to see, it is I who am offering you my trust.”

                Stiles closed his eyes and relaxed back into the palm of the Nephilim’s hand. He calmed the torrent of worries in his mind and felt himself succumb to the warmth of the touch of the hand on the base of his skull. His mind went blank as thoughts and images that were foreign to his mind began to wash over him.

                **_“This is your fault!” a female voice had spoken. There was an image of a girl standing before him, young with brown hair falling past her shoulders. The smell of burnt peanut butter wafted through the air. Stiles locked eyes with the girl accusing him of something, her brown irises shining with playfulness. The smirk that tugged at the corner of her mouth, betraying her anger with a hint of amusement._**

**_The scene changed and he could tell the young woman was older as she grew clearer in his view. Her hands reaching out for his as she leaned in to kiss him. The warmth that overcame his body was something like he had never felt before. Stiles felt a smile grace his own face as he stared into those brown eyes. “I love you,” came the words pouring from his mouth, but the voice he heard was not his own. It was deeper, and had a simplicity to it that Stiles could only recall himself in the days before his world grew to include the supernatural._ **

**_The images shifted again, this time, several years had passed, and the girl was now a woman, standing before him in a white dress. Stiles felt sand in-between his toes as he shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other. He looked around to see that he was standing on a beach. He drew his focus back to the woman, the ocean breeze toying with her curls as she smiled back at him. Stiles didn’t even realize he was smiling himself as he placed a ring, nervously on her finger. There were muffled words and cheering in the background as they leaned into each other in a passionate kiss. Stiles felt that warmth wash over him again and it made his knees shake, trying to buckle under his light headedness. There was a thought that rushed through his mind, ‘bliss.’_ **

**_The ocean faded away and Stiles found himself moving about in small circles. The woman was still wearing her white dress, her playful eyes were closed as her head was pressed into the crease of where his neck met his shoulder. They were dancing slowly with one another, the music of “Goodnight Moon,” playing in the background as they swayed. Stiles wanted to live in that moment, to stay there as the familiar warmth consumed his body. He was coming closer to putting a name on it, not bliss, but love. And in that moment, he knew the words were true._ **

**_The scene didn’t stay though, as hard as Stiles tried to hold on to it, it was soon changing again as this time, he found himself in a house. The sun was shining through the windows as a breeze began to shift the curtains back and forth. The smell of salt tickled his nose as he adjusted his view. Stiles could not see far past the glass of the windows, but he could assume they were living somewhere near the ocean. Then another smell chased it, the smell of peanut butter and sugar coming from the kitchen as the sounds of a woman humming the song he was just dancing to, toyed with his ears. Rising from his seated position on a small sofa, Stiles felt movements that were not his own as he got up and followed the sweet smell and sound that was coming from the other room. He approached the woman as she pulled a pan from the oven and Stiles recognized the site and smell of peanut butter cookies. She turned and he embraced her. They began to move again, dancing about in the kitchen as the sound of his own humming, harmonized with hers. That familiar warmth, now a welcome friend, pulsing through his body._ **

**_But that scene too, faded away, and this time Stiles was filled with a sense of worry as he looked down and saw his hands trembling. He was holding a letter, a wetness in his eyes as tears began to fall onto its pages. Hands reached out to grasp his own and steady him. He looked up to see the face of the woman, her smile gone, but a hopefulness playing in her eyes as she began to rub her thumbs over the back of his hands. “I have to go,” he heard a voice saying, coming from between his own lips. His words were cut off as he felt the woman press her lips gently against his own. His worry subsided for a moment as he let himself feel the comfort and warmth rush into his body from hers._ **

**_The next thing Stiles knew, he was standing in a battle field, rushing from soldier to soldier as he checked for pulses and tagged the wounded, separating them from the dead. His voice was giving directions of who and how to treat the surviving injured. Mortar shells exploding in the distance as the gruesome scene unfolded. Stiles noted the slickness of the blood on his hands as he moved along to his next task. He recognized the uniform he was in as that of an army medic. Adept hands, knowing what to do as they applied pressure to a soldier lying beneath him. He was trying to stop the bleeding coming from the unknown man’s chest as he saw the horrified expression on the man’s face. It turned to one of vacancy as the soldier’s breathing stopped and his headed lulled to the side, pulse stopping as the blood stopped spilling out of him._ **

**_It was night, and Stiles found himself inside a tent, the sounds of war piercing the night air as he opened a worn envelope containing a letter. He let the words contained within, wash over him, calming him down. He could not make out all the words, the over handling of the letter from months spent reading it over and over had worn most of it down. He traced a finger over the faded lettering and read it within his mind. The woman, his wife, was telling him of how the president had declared the war nearing its end, and that he should be home within the year. She talked of excitement in wanting to start a family when he came back and Stiles felt a smile on his face. He remembered the taste of her cookies as he lifted the letter and smelt the lingering scent of peanut butter that was imbued into it from where it had been sent with a small batch. A moment of peace and warmth crept into his soul, followed by a high pitched whistling sound, the shaking of the earth, and heat washing over him. A mortar exploding as it hit the ground outside his tent. Then Stiles only saw darkness._ **

**_He was floating through the air, broken as the breeze, but there was peace and beauty in it. He heard voices singing to him. A song he could not recognize, but calling to him just the same. A multitude of voices rising and falling in reverence to a power greater than their own, Stiles opened his eyes to a blinding light as he found himself being pulled back down to the earth._ **

**_The next thing he knew, he was standing back on the beach, a woman in the distance, singing into the moonlight, but this song was different. This song was sorrowful, full of longing and loss. He recognized the voice of the woman, and before he understood what was happening, he found himself running towards her, screaming her name. Just as he approached her, arms outstretched to embrace her from behind, he passed through her. The singing all the while, tugging at him, and it was then that he knew that he had died, and he wept at her feet._ **

**_As his tears fell upon her, she began to shift. Her once brown eyes, turning a deep blue-gray, and her brown hair turning black as the night. Her singing subsided and she opened her mouth to speak. “They have taken you from me. The happiness we had built being washed away the same as the sand washed from the shore by the breaking of the waves. If I cannot have my happiness, then I will take from others what has been stolen from me.” And with that, the woman walked out into the ocean and let the waves pull her under, sinking below the salty surface._ **

**_The images began to move quicker now. Stiles would jump from place to place, seemingly on a whim as he broke apart in the light and scattered, only to reform somewhere else. With each new location, there was death. Men and women lying pale on the shores of oceans, lakes, and rivers. Each reaching out for one another as if trying to embrace in their last fleeting moments before death, the tang of loss filling the air._ **

Stiles opened his eyes to find himself back on his bed, the Nephilim looking down at him with sadness in his violet eyes. Stiles opened his mouth to speak, but could only formulate one word, a name, “Kay.” At the sound of the name being spoken aloud, the Nephilim stepped back, away from the bed, and Stiles squinted his eyes as the shadowy visage began to come into focus. He could see a man, short cropped black hair, round face with the touches of a beard beginning to form. He was of average height and build, wearing a black pea coat over a blue button-down shirt, tie loosely hanging around his neck. “I can see you?” Stiles blinked as he said it, unsure of what just happened.

                “You can see me as I was, as I see myself,” the Nephilim responded. “My name is Nataous, but please call me Nate. The woman, Kay, you saw, was my wife.  When I died in battle, I was reborn as a Nephilim, having bore witness to the choir of the heavenly host. I came back to earth at the pull of the siren song my wife was weeping into the sea. My loss changed her, taking the goodness that was there and leaving a hole in its wake. She feeds off the longing and loss of others, trying to briefly regain what she has lost, but it only lasts for a moment. Each time getting shorter, until she has to take from another to feel whole again.”

Stiles tried to take it all in, putting the pieces together in his mind. “That is what she is doing to Derek, isn’t it?”

“Yes. The feelings the wolf has for you are stronger than anything she has felt before, save for the love that we both shared. She took them from him, but when he did not die, a new plan came into focus. She will use him to draw you out. She means to kill you, Stiles. She will take the feelings you have for Derek, and pull them into herself, becoming stronger. With that amount of power, there is no telling what kind of damage she could do. We must not let that happen.” Nate stood there for a moment, waiting for Stiles to acknowledge the severity of what needs to be done. “If it looks like she will win, we must remove the wolf from the situation…”

Stiles let his mouth drop open as the realization that they might have to kill Derek crept into his mind. “I will not kill Derek.” He did not say it in anger, he said it flat, with no inflection in his voice. It was stated as fact. “We must find another way.”

“If you help me, I will do what I can for your friend.” Nate reached out his hand toward Stiles, fingers hanging in the air as he waited for Stiles to reach up and take them.

Stiles looked at the hand, then down at his own fidgeting fingers before nodding to himself and reaching up for the outstretched hand. As their hands grasped one another, Stiles woke from his dream. He was sobbing into his pillow as his eyes opened, Scott was peering down at him with a worried expression. “You ok, buddy?” came Scott’s worried voice.

“Yeah,” was Stiles response. “I know what I have to do.”

*****

                “ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?” Scott was not at all ready for what Stiles had told them he planned on doing. “You can’t invite another spirit to invade your body! I can’t go through it again, watching as you lose control and do terrible things! If you do this, Stiles, I will not be a part of it.”

                There was a mutual agreement about the room as Lydia and Scott agreed on their stance. “There has to be another way, Stiles.” Lydia was pleading for him to change his mind.

                Stiles sat there patiently, waiting for the shock of it to pass. The only person who had not chimed in was Deaton. The vet was oddly silent as they sat in his back office, discussing Stiles’ plan. Scott looked to the older man as his guide in this, waiting for him to tell Stiles it was a bad idea. That he could succumb and die. They nearly lost him the last time when the Nogitsune had tried to take over Stiles’ body and Scott was not willing to see his best friend travel willing back down that road. Deaton however, looked lost in thought. “Tell him, Deaton! Tell him it’s a bad idea!” Scott was persistent.

                “It is a bad idea,” the vet responded, “but it’s the best one we’ve got so far.”

                “You can’t actually be considering this,” Lydia responded, whipping her head around, turning her fierce gaze from Stiles to the doctor.

                “Tell me again, Stiles, just what happened to you last night. I don’t want to know just what you saw, but what you felt about what you were seeing. If you truly were living through the memories of the Nephilim, then you would have been experiencing them as he did.” Deaton paused for a moment, considering how to choose his words for what he wanted to say next. “It is quite possible that he was telling the truth, and that he only wishes to help, but from what I gather, it sounds like he may be more interested in helping himself.”

                Stiles looked at Deaton, ignoring the irritated expressions on Scott and Lydia’s faces. “It’s not that I think he isn’t out to help himself, but I think our goals may be aligned in a manner. He loved this woman, Kay. The emotions that washed over me during the viso-dreaming,” Stiles took a moment to smile at his new favorite made-up word as he said it again in his mind, “were intense, consuming even. Nate believes that through me, he could directly interact with her, maybe even spark that last bit of the woman he once knew to find her way back to the surface. If he can, we might be able to save Derek. Pull him out from under her sway.”

                “And then what, Stiles?” Lydia’s glare was smoldering, burning to match the firey blond intensity of her hair and for a moment, Stiles flashed back to high school. “Do you think that if he is able to actually interact with her, the woman he loves and who has been tearing the world apart to push her loss on others….” Lydia paused to regain her composure. “Do you really think that he would give that up? That after being away from each other, he would willing help you to save Derek, then just let the two of you go, putting himself back into the ethereal plane? He would lose her all over again.”

                Stiles let her words sink in, doubt starting to tear away at is resolve, but he heard a voice creep out of the air behind him and he relaxed. Stiles caught Lydia’s gaze and locked on, “It won’t be a problem this time. I’ll have control. He will just be with me, guiding me. And when we are done, he will leave.”

                “But how can you be sure about this, Stiles?” Scott’s puppy dog browns were gleaming with worry.

                Stiles took a breath before he voiced what he already knew, “Because there is a difference between willing cohabitation, and suppression. The trickster demon crept in and took over, pushing my consciousness down so that he would be the dominate spirit in my body. But by willingly accepting the Nephilim, there is a harmony that comes from it. His power will feed into me, allowing me to do the things I need as I see fit to handle them, only nudging me in the right direction if I falter from the task. Once it has been completed, I can push him from my body.”

                “Stiles, that makes no sense. You think that you can just invite another spirit inside of you and then tell him to leave when you’re done?” Lydia shook her head and her hair tossed in its wake.

                “Actually,” Deaton spoke up, clearing his throat as he started coming to a similar conclusion, “I think Stiles may be right.” Scott and Lydia both turned their gazes towards the vet, intensity following suit. “It has long been practiced by many religions from native Americans, witches both good and bad, and even faith healers. The ability to call upon a spirit for help whether for dark deeds or honorable ones in times of need, is based off of the same principle. I mean, it might be a bit of a stretch, but consider men of faith, praying for guidance. It is of a similar concept. So, tell me Stiles, how is it you came to this conclusion?”

                Stiles looked to the three in front of him as he sat calmly in his chair, he lowered his head and coughed before speaking. “Well, actually. It wasn’t exactly my line of thinking. I mostly like to deal with hard facts instead of abstract philosophical truths.” He raised his head and locked eyes with Scott, searching his friend’s face for comfort before he forced himself to speak the next words. “Nate told me this before I came in here, expecting my need to justify my actions to my close friends.”

                “What do you mean, Stiles,” There was a low growl in Scott’s voice that let slip how tense he was, “What ‘actions’ have you taken that need justifying?”

                Stiles kept his eyes firmly locked on Scott’s as a smile pressed the corner of his mouth. Without missing a beat, Stiles’ eyes shifted from their calm brown to a deep violet.

                The resulting growl that came pouring from Scott’s jaws was not the reception Stiles was going for. The walls began to shake, Deaton and Lydia covered their ears, and Stiles started to panic. Unsure of what Scott would do next, Stiles closed his eyes and felt himself drift. When he opened them again, he was on the other side of Deaton’s desk, hunched low behind the startled vet for cover.

                Scott let his growl trail off as it registered that he was snarling at an empty chair. He looked around the room where he saw Lydia, who was now laughing and pointing at Stiles, hiding behind Deaton. “Get back over here Stiles,” Scott snarled out through his exposed fangs. “I think you have a bit more explaining to do.

                “Are you going to growl at me again? Because if you can’t be a good wolfy, then I may live back here.”

                Deaton coughed uncomfortably before shoeing Stiles out from behind him and ushering him back to the chair. Lydia looked less annoyed and more amused now that she gripped the situation fully, knowing that Stiles had already done what he was planning.

                “First off,” Stiles said as he timidly sat back down and scooted his chair a fraction away from the angry alpha, “how cool was it that I just light traveled? And secondly, I’ve already done it.”

                Scott shook his head in disbelief, “When did you invite him in?”

                Stiles thought about it for a moment. He didn’t actually remember doing anything special, but as the events of the previous night replayed again in his mind it dawned on him. “I think when I took his hand in my dream, it was an extension of friendship and a semi-informal invitation in itself. I didn’t really know that anything was different till I got in the shower this morning and found myself hearing a voice inside my head that wasn’t entirely my own. Then as I was looking in the mirror and getting dressed, my eyes changed color.” Stiles changed the color of his eyes again, testing the waters as he began to master his borrowed abilities. “Look!” he said while pointing at the reds of Scott’s, “We’re twinsies!” Stiles began to laugh and Scott let his eyes fade back to brown.

                As mad as Scott was, there was no doubt in his mind that with such terrible humor, Stiles was still Stiles.

                **_“We need a plan,”_** Nate’s voice was talking in Stiles’ mind. Stiles was still getting used to hearing thoughts that were not his own.

                “We need a plan,” Stiles echoed the thought out loud.

                “Well,” Scott said, “You’re the one already making moves, so why don’t you fill in what you’ve got for the rest of us?” Scott sounded a little bitter, still upset with Stiles for making a big leap without consulting the rest of the pack, but somewhere deep down he knew that Stiles’ intentions were good.

                Stiles pondered for a moment. As the critical thinker of the group, he was accustomed to having to make up the roles for the pack to play. The supes were all doers, the muscle in most occasions, except for Lydia who was their uncanny mad genius when it came to the science of things. Stiles knew that having the other wolves there with him in this battle would be a hindrance though, and breaking the news to Scott that he and Liam were going to have to sit this one out made Stiles shy away from voicing that thought.

                **_“You are right in that assertion. Kay’s siren powers will have a stronger sway on them due to their attuned sense of hearing.”_**

_“Is that how she was able to force Derek to shift? Her song had a deeper effect on him, and now she can control him?”_ Stiles was getting a better grasp at internal conversations as his symbiotic relationship with Nate strengthened. Growing up with ADHD made his mind wander from thought to thought randomly, often sounding like conversations in his head. This situation almost felt normal to him.

                Stiles coughed, shyly looking away from Scott as he readied himself to start working the details out loud. “Well, Scott…. I think it might be best if you and Liam sit this one out.” Scott opened his mouth to protest but Stiles cut him off. “Hear me out, Scott. We already know that the siren has a stronger effect on those with supernatural hearing. It’s like a wolf whistle to you three. I will not risk putting any more of my friends in danger.” Stiles took a moment as he let his mind wander to what Derek must be doing under her control right now. A pain in his heart began to swell before Nate chimed in, discouraging that connection as it would only feed Kay’s power if Stiles let himself fall victim to her sway.

                **_“Her power is already beginning to take hold of you, but with my abilities in here, mingling with your natural ones, we should be able to keep that pull at bay. Having bore witness to the choir of angels, her siren call will have no affect on me, but that does not mean we can’t still use that pull to our advantage.”_**

                “Nate thinks that we should be able to find Derek.” Stiles processed this possibility before voicing the idea that came to him. “Kay is already trying to pull me in. I can feel her tugging on my connection to Derek, but Nate is immune to her song. So when the time comes, we should be able to use that pull to locate them. Lydia,” Stiles turned to look at her so he could gage her reaction to her part, “You should also be immune. Deaton mentioned earlier that your power and Kay’s are similar in that they both derive from a primal, sound based system. Your wail could possibly cut through hers and negate it. However, this theory is untested, so I’d feel a lot more comfortable if you stayed with Scott. If you focus your abilities, you may be able to predict the outcome, sparing us a few precious moments if Derek and I get into trouble. I also fear that if she feels the history between us, or rather my side of it, that she may try to play off of that as well.”

                “Wait, wait, wait,” Scott shook his head in disbelief. “Are you trying to tell us that you plan on doing this alone?”

                Stiles smiled and tapped the side of his head, “I won’t be alone exactly. I can already feel Nate’s powers intensifying inside of me. I’m not quite sure of what we’ll be capable of, but for once, I’ll be going into battle with more than just my baseball bat.” _“Speaking of, do you even know what we will be able to do now that you are inside of a physical body?”_

_**“I am not entirely sure myself. I’ve never met anyone else of my kind so there is a great deal that I do not know.”**_

                “Deaton, will you be able to do some research for me and figure out just what exactly our abilities are? I know I sound confident, but I’d like to see the bigger picture before I go rushing off to save the day.” Stiles just sort of awkwardly smiled at Deaton, hoping the vet wouldn’t mind doing the leg work for a change. Stiles was so accustomed to Deaton pushing off the research on to him, he wondered if the doc could actually read sometimes. “You do have a copy of the beastiary, and though I would normally be looking it up myself, Nate and I need a bit of work in syncing our actions with our intent. If we are not joint of mind when this battle goes down, the noise in my head may be an unwanted distraction.”

                “Well, we already know that you can light travel, so evasive maneuvers are going to be in your favor if you can get that under control,” Deaton started, “but as for the rest of it, I’m not sure. I will be happy to see what I can find out. I remember hearing the other druids talk of the lore of the Nephilim, but never in the host of another. This is uncharted territory. Does Nate even know why he isn’t in physical form himself?”

                “ _Well, he does pose a good question. What about roomie? Any idea why you came back as only half of what you were supposed to be?”_ Stiles heard a chuckle in his head at the roomie comment.

_**“I am not sure myself, but I have had time to think about, and if I had to wager a guess, I’d say that Kay’s song pulled me back before my transformation was fully complete.”**_

                “He thinks that when he died, and his transformation began, it was interrupted by the siren song. It pulled him down too early to be reborn in his Nephilim form.” Stiles had a sudden crazy thought and the look on Deaton’s face told him that the druid was coming to a similar conclusion.

                Deaton voiced it first, “So, that brings another interesting question entirely. Being in a human body, actually being back in the physical world, could mean that his untapped potential has the time to grow and be more fully realized. Did that occur to you, Stiles?”

                Stiles and Nate both spoke, “Not until just now.”

                “Whoa,” Stiles gasped, scratching his throat, “That was really weird.”

                “Mic check, mic check, testing, testing 1,2,3.” The mutual toning coming from Stiles made both he and Nate laugh. The others shot them a strange look and Scott sighed.

                “This is going to be unbearable.” Scott whimpered, looking at the amused expression on Stiles’ face.

                “No kidding,” Lydia smirked. “I thought Stiles’ humor was bad enough on its own, but having two of them in there is going to be hell on the world. No one will be able to rest.”

                Deaton cleared his throat before cutting in, “Other than research, we do still need an actual plan. You got anything, Stiles?”

                Stiles collected his thoughts and coughed, readying to speak, but as he opened his mouth, the crack of lightening boomed overhead, shaking the walls of the room. Stiles lost his train of thought at the site of Scott, letting his wolven instincts show as he ducked his head and let out a small whimper. “Well that was ominous,” was all Stiles managed to get out.

**_“It’s probably for the best that you didn’t voice your plan out loud,”_** came the progressively familiar voice in his head.

                _“Why is that?”_ Stiles thought to Nate.

**_“Because it was a terrible plan,”_** came the reply.

**** _“Well I don’t exactly hear you coming up with anything better!”_

                Scott registered the disgruntled look on Stiles’ face, one he was well accustomed to being on the receiving end of, and pressed for its reasoning. “Having a problem there, bud?”

                “Hmm?” Stiles replied as he snapped back from his internal dialogue. “Ohh, no problem,” he replied. “Just having a minor disagreement with the voice in my head.”

                Lydia cackled, “Coming from anyone else, that would be a statement that would cause alarm, but from you, it sounds perfectly normal!”

                “Guys,” Deaton interrupted as he got up and peered out the office window, “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think we may be running out of time.”

                Scott, Stiles, and Lydia got up and approached the window to see what Deaton had been staring at. The mild mid-afternoon sun had been cloaked behind a thick blanket of heavy black clouds. Lightening periodically pierced the sky, and the trees in the distance began to sway under the weight of the rising wind.

                Scott began to growl low in his stomach and his eyes flashed to red. He turned his head so that it would be profile to the widow and he placed his ear closer to the glass, straining to hear the sound being carried in the wayward wind. Somewhere off in the distance, he could here Derek howling. “I can hear Derek,” he said through clenched fangs. “He is calling for his pack. No… not his pack. He is calling for Stiles.”

                Stiles felt a tug at his heart, like someone was pulling on an invisible thread. “I can feel him,” Stiles said as a tear began to wet his eyes.

                “We might have another problem,” Deaton toned as the pack looked towards him. “We don’t know where Derek and Kay are, nor do we know what kind of timeline we are working off of, but I feel as if the clock is winding down. I know that Stiles said he could follow his connection to Derek to find them, but with the sky being darkened, he will not be able to light travel. We may run out of time just trying to get him there.”

                “ **I may have a solution to that,”** came Nate’s voice through Stiles. **“I can feel my powers increasing exponentially through the abundance of energy contained in Stiles. I am getting stronger, and may be able to help in that regard”**

                “Yes! Score one for the ADHD kid,” Stiles chimed. “Alright, Jiminy, let’s see whatchu got!”

                **“First off,”** Nate scolded, **“I am not your conscience. Secondly, remove your shirt and lean forward.”**

                “First off,” Stiles grumbled, trying to replicate Nate’s stern tone, “That joke was awesome. And secondly,” Stiles dropped his voice to a barely audible whisper, “If you are trying to repeat what you saw me do during shower time, I wasn’t aware then that you were watching.”

                Scott coughed awkwardly from behind Stiles and shook his head. “Damn wolf hearing.” Stiles muttered.

                **_“Please just do as I ask.”_** Nate thought to Stiles. Stiles shook off his embarrassment and began to remove his shirt, as he did so, he found it unsettling at how intense Lydia’s gaze could actually be. She inspected him thoroughly as he exposed his lean chest, clicking her tongue with amused appreciation.

                “Ok, now what?” Stiles said aloud.

                **_“Wrap your arms about your chest, hunch down, and brace yourself,”_** came the rushed thought. Stiles barely had a moment to get low before he felt a sudden heat and pain searing across his back. He began to scream as the skin between his shoulder blades began to rip open, fluids and tissue oozing out. Then a torrent of weight began to bear down on the exposed areas as fleshy masses grew from the wounds, expanding outwards. The new appendages elongated and thickened as they began to fill with new bone and cartilage. They began to flatten out to points at the tips and feathers started sprouting along their length.

                What felt like hours to Stiles, but were only minutes, ticked away. Soon Stiles was regaining his feet, two large wings draping the ground as he rose. Deaton gasped at the site before him, Lydia fainted from the blood and bits of tissue that had spattered the surrounding walls and ceiling around them, Scott’s eyes grew twice their size in amazement as Stiles turned his head and regarded himself. “Holy shit!” The only words Stiles could find to express himself.

                “ ** _How do you feel about flying?”_** Came Nate’s laughing thought.

 ******

                Stiles twisted his head back and forth, trying to get a better view of his new features. He tugged at the long white feathers curiously as he inspected himself. “Don’t pull on those!” Deaton shouted. “Those feathers are more valuable than you may realize. Though an angel’s wings are nearly indestructible from external damage, self inflicted harm can negate that.”

                Stiles turned to face the man, nearly knocking over Lydia and Scott as his wings swished behind him. “Are you telling me that they can’t be harmed, unless I do it myself?”

                Deaton eyed the wings curiously, “If I have my information correct, yes. They were often used like armor during battle, having endured most known weapons used against them, but my people told a story about how a Nephilim plucked his own feathers to forsake his heavenly ties and become mortal once again. Pulling them out could weaken their power.” Stiles let his hands fall back to his sides.

                “They are beautiful,” Lydia cooed.

                Stiles turned to face her, “As pretty as they are, I am feeling a bit drafty with no shirt on.”

                **_“That will pass,”_** came Nate’s internal voice. “ ** _The angels used to wear armor over their chests that was designed to fit around the wings, but that was merely for extra protection over their torso. Soon the warmth that comes from being a vessel should start to fill you and you won’t notice external temperatures. The angels used to wage war on every continent of this earth, and even in hell. Your body should begin to regulate its own temperature soon enough.”_**

_“You know, for someone who claims to not know much about his people, you sure are incredibly informed as of late,”_ Stiles thought to Nate. Then he pictured his most sarcastic face, and sent the mental image into his mind for the interloper to see. At that, Stiles felt a twitching in the back of his eyes as Nate tried to roll them in response.

                Stiles was pulled from his internal machinations as a sharp tug behind him on his wing, threw off his balance and he toppled to the floor on top of Scott. “He dude, what was that about?” Stiles fussed at Scott.

                Scott laughed from beneath him as he replied, “Sorry bro, I couldn’t help myself. They kept fluttering and I wanted to catch it. Good news is though, I couldn’t pull it out with my wolf strength, so I think Deaton is correct on their sturdiness.”

                Stiles flopped about on top of Scott, “Well that’s all great, but my balance is way off and I’m feeling a bit like a feathered turtle. Think you can push me back up?”

                Lydia laughed at the scene as Scott heaved from under Stiles and put him back on his feet. “What?” Stiles asked while shooting Lydia a don’t-mess-with-me stare. “I just got these things and I’m not even sure how to use them!”

                **“That is a rather true statement, Stiles,”** Nate spoke. **“I already know your apprehension for it, but perhaps you should relax on the reins and let me handle the wings. They are an extension of my body, and I can instinctively feel them. Every muscle fiber, every feather accounted for, is wired deep within my being. Relax your back and let me stretch them out.”**

                A worried expression crossed Stiles’ face, but Deaton told him that it might be a better idea than falling from the sky. Stiles calmed his nervousness and let the tension ease from about his shoulders. Once he had settled, he felt a strange sensation as his wings began to push outward, unfolding about him as they expanded and stretched before him so they would not hit Scott or Lydia. “That’s a weird feeling,” He said as a smile tried to creep onto his face. The smile was short lived however as the wings swooshed downward, lifting him from the ground and throwing him to the ceiling. He crashed back to the floor with a heavy umph and a sigh escaped the heap he became on the linoleum. “That probably would have worked better, had we been outside,” Stiles spoke to the group, using a more sarcastic tone in his head so Nate would know it was primarily directed at him.

 

                “You may get that chance very soon,” Deaton said as the lightening grow steadily closer above Beacon Hills. And with Deaton’s uncanny sense of timing, the power flickered off in the clinic.

                **“We need to go!”** came Nate’s urgent voice. Stiles gave a wary look about the room as he mentally tried to prepare himself for the battle ahead. Lydia and Deaton gave him reassuring smiles, as Scott ungraciously tried to approach while dodging the wings. Scott hugged his best friend and whispered words of encouragement into Stiles’ ear. Scott will deny saying it if asked, but Stiles knew that when Scott told him to be careful and that he loved him, he had meant it.

                The pack followed Stiles to the door, opening it for him as he tried to maneuver his way out without bumping his wings. Stiles paused in the parking lot, giving his friends one last hopeful smile, and with a wave of his hand to say good-bye, he was airborne.

 

                The rush of the wind as it passed through Stiles’ hair and the lack of ground beneath his feet left Stiles feeling exhilarated. He closed his eyes as he and Nate flew further from the ground. Stiles peered down at the buildings beneath him, and for a moment, felt terrified, but then he closed his eyes and basked in the weightlessness of his body. For the first time in his entire life, Stiles felt free. A smile pressed his lips as he let out a joyful gasp. He wished he could stay up here forever.

                **_“I get that you are enjoying this,”_** came Nate’s thought, **_“but we have somewhere to be.”_**

                Reveling in the moment a minute longer, Stiles sighed as he felt the tug in his chest, pulling him north-west towards the Beacon County lake and reservoir. “We need to go that way,” Stiles said as he pointed towards the lake shimmering in the distance. Lightening struck around them and Stiles faltered, his back tensing at the closeness of the electric current buzzing through the air. Then Stiles felt another sensation, falling.

                As they plummeted towards the ground, Stiles began to see flashes before his eyes as the life he wanted to have, began to slip through his fingers. No more birthdays, no more talks with Scott, no more hugs from his father, and no more Derek. As the last thought passed through his mind, he calmed himself and let go, feeling Nate take over his body and stabilize them. **_“Let’s not do that again, ok?”_** Came Nate’s worried thought. **_“I’m not exactly sure what would happen if we hit the ground, but I have the distinct impression that we’d both die in this mortal body of yours.”_**

Stiles sighed as he regained his composure, glad that his pack had been too far below to see his scared face. “I think you may need to fully take over while we fly,” Stiles said. “”As great as this feels, I’m not prepared to handle this on my own.”

                “ ** _In order for me to take full control of your body, I will need to meld myself deeper into your being. That means allowing me into those parts of yourself you have been closing off so that I can feel the pull for myself and take direction from it. You will simply be an observer, seeing from behind your eyes as I take over.”_** Nate said the words and Stiles felt the weight of them sink in as he began to understand that what Nate meant was akin to what the nogitsune had done to him. **_You will need to have full trust in me as I have in you.”_**

                Stiles wanted to remain in control, afraid of being a bystander in his own body yet again as the images of what the nogitsune had done rushed through his memories. He didn’t want to be a helpless victim yet again, but more importantly, he didn’t want Derek to be left under the sway of the siren. “I trust you,” came his simple reply. And with that, he eased the inner most parts of himself, allowing Nate to fully engross himself into every fiber of Stiles’ being. Stiles was expecting his body to go numb, feeling heavy as it did when the nogitsune had taken over and he had seen everything played out as if he was in a dream, but instead, he felt something entirely new.

                As his bond with Nate grew deeper, Stiles could feel the passenger pushing through his thoughts and memories, seeing Stiles’ life with new eyes as Nate deciphered what had made him so uniquely him. Tears formed at the corner of his eyes as he relieved memories long forgotten of his mom when he was a child, hugging him, telling him stories, laughing, and then dying. He relieved highschool in the blink of a moment, and soon was caught back up to the present. He felt his own limbs stretch out and move about him, seemingly out of his control, but with a grace he had never mastered. These were the movements of deft muscles, knowing where and when to be in the heat of a battle. Stiles began to feel the tug in his chest intensify as the suppressed pull from Derek and the siren began to lift and the full force of it hit him, but there was also something unfamiliar in it.

                Stiles had not anticipated the fusion of himself and Nate to be such a two way street. The Nehpilim’s thoughts and memories began to merge with his own and Stiles found himself wandering through the other man’s mind like a picture book. He relieved Nate’s childhood, growing up in the country, and unremarkable life. He saw through Nate’s eyes, his struggle with identity as he grew into his teenage years, and then he relieved the moment Nate had met Kay, and his heart began to ache even more. Nate’s whole world changed in that moment, an unremarkable life becoming one of note as he became so enraptured in his love. Then the loss of it hit him again as their married years rushed by and he died once again.

                When Stiles pulled himself away from Nate’s past, he looked on through hazy eyes as they flew through the air towards the lake, and hopefully the rescue of his love. Stiles did not want to lose Derek the way Nate and Kay had been separated from each other, and he was willing to do what it took to ensure that did not happen. _“We can’t let her win,”_ Stiles thought. _“I will not have Derek lost to me the way you were lost to Kay.”_

                Nate hummed his agreement, and Stiles could feel the longing from within Nate’s chest as they pushed onward towards Nate’s love, their enemy. As they grew closer to the reservoir, the howl from a lone wolf could be heard growing louder in the distance. Derek knew they were coming, which made Stiles feel a moment of hope before it dawned on him that if Derek knew, so did the siren. Stiles felt a pang in his chest, not from Derek, but from Kay. “ _”Is she going to be a problem for you?”_ Stiles thought to Nate.

                **“No, I refuse to succumb to her sway. We have the element of surprise on our hands. Though she is expecting you to come willingly to your death, she is not expecting me. We may be able to use that against her. I have a plan, untested and probably very dangerous, but it may save us both. However, in the event that this starts to go south, I want you to remember what Deaton said about my wings. Pluck a feather and hold it to your chest. Should I die, this may be able to keep you alive.”** Nate’s words struck a chord within Stiles as he let the plan unfold between them. Nate was willing to sacrifice himself if it came down to it, and Stiles worried for a moment that though he may go down swinging, his understanding of the Nephilim and the bond they now shared made him feel like a friend. More than that even, Nate was now family. Their memories entwined within each other as if they had grown up together. Scott had always been like a brother to Stiles, but this was a bond that transcended that, one were Stiles had a hard time defining his own sense of self now that Nate was fully a part of him, feeding off his energy to survive. Stiles would willingly give it to the man as long as he could. He was not ready to lose another part of his family.

                Stiles could now see the outline of the large wolf as he paced back and forth on a rise above the water. He sighed with a brief moment of relief as the siren was nowhere in view. For a moment, he let himself believe that this would be easier than he had anticipated. Stiles’ body angled downward as they began to descend to the ground a few yards away from the wolf who was growling at their approach. As they landed, Derek stopped pacing and his large mass sat on its back haunches, releasing a piercing howl as Stiles and Nate came face to face with him. He was still the size of a small horse, as he had been when he bolted from the clinic, and you could see the signs of his presence marked on the bark of the nearby marred trees. Scratches and destruction were evident from where he had been marking his territory and warning other predators of his presence.

                He howled again, this time a low and deep guttural sound, one of warning and calling. Stiles felt his body shy away from it, and from the recognition of whom Derek was summoning. A wave of unease crashed over Stiles as Nate’s thoughts of seeing Kay crept into his own, and for a moment he was filled with doubt that Nate wouldn’t be able to see this through.

                The water below the precipice on which they stood began to stir and swell. Ripples spreading outwards as it rose and from it emerged the siren, standing upon the water as if it were as solid as the earth. The level of the water continued to rise as it carried Kay up towards the cliff they were standing upon. With fluid motions, she stepped from the lake and onto the surface of the earth, a sinister smile gracing her darkened features. Derek stretched forward, lowering his head and exposing his neck to her as she paced gracefully over beside her pliant pet. She placed a hand upon his head and scratched playfully between his ears. “I told you he would come for you,” she spoke to the wolf as he turned and took his place beside her. “He looks different though. Do you see those big wings of his? I bet they taste like chicken. Do you like chicken, Derek?” Her eyes left the wolf and her gaze locked on to Stiles.

                “What are you doing, Derek?” Stiles yelled. “Get away from her!”

                “He can’t hear you, Stiles. Can you, puppy?” She cooed and Derek sat on his haunches, licking his jaws. “I’m going to make him rip off those wings of yours, and then I’m going to have him tear you to pieces. Once you are fully beaten, I’m going to take your heart.”

                “Why are you doing this?” Stiles pleaded to Kay.

                “Because my love was stolen from me, and for that, the rest of this war faring humanity will pay the price.” She trailed her words with a whistle, and within a blink, Derek was upon them.

                The wolf pounced; taking a giant leap from the siren’s side and lunged at Stiles. Stiles was caught off guard by the sudden attack and was too wrapped up in his thoughts of what to do. Before he had time to react, the wolf was on top of him, pinning him down by his wings. Stiles struggled helplessly upon his back. Using what leverage he could get with his arms to keep Derek’s fangs from ripping into him, he placed his hands on the wolf’s chest, trying to push him away.

                “Derek,” Stiles pleaded, “you don’t have to do this. You can come back home to the pack, to me.” Tears began to swell in Stiles’ eyes as the fear of having to kill Derek fully sank in.

                Kay laughed maniacally from where she stood just off in the distance. “It is useless trying to get through to him. He is completely under my control!”

                “Derek…. Please…” Stiles let his pleas trail off as the tears began to flow freely. His vision clouding from the wetness, he was unable to stop it as the wolf snatched one of Stiles’ frantic hands. He bit hard, locking his jaw around it but not severing the limb. Stiles may have been imagining things in his frenzy to protect himself and to save the one he loved, but just before the wolf clamped down on him, Stiles could have swore he heard the choked off words of his name, escaping from within the maw of the large beast.

                Stiles could hear Nate cursing in his mind as he tried to regain control of the body. Nate was fighting to regain control and liberate them from the wolf. Stiles felt his strength swell as the Nephilim began to push through the mental barriers, but stiles fought back, wanting to prevent the loss of his friend. Utilizing his growing strength, Stiles hoped for the best as he pushed his arm deeper into the jaw of the beast. Down it went, past his mouth and down his throat. He could hear the wolf choking on him as the flesh tore away from his wrist and up his arm as Stiles pushed deeper still.

                Just when Stiles thought he was going to surrender to the pain, he felt something latch on to his hand. Stiles began to pull as the wolf toppled over. The wolf’s throat and mouth began to split as Stile retracted his arm, but his arm was not all that came with him. As the wolf collapsed onto the ground and Stiles removed what was left of his arm, there was another clasped on to it. Derek began to emerge from the beast’s corpse, pulled by Stiles’ sheer will power to save him. He removed Derek and laid the unconscious man on his back in the grass.

                Kay’s eyes went wild at the site. “You cannot have him back! He is mine!” she screamed. Her eyes went a vivid blue-green, as deep and dark as the sea. She began to sway and sing her siren song. _“And I’ll stay here, You’ll be gone for another year. The plans that I’ve made, Are falling on deaf ears..”_

Stiles felt the immense pull of the lyrics and power contained within as he began to stumble his way towards the siren that was backing her way to the edge of the cliff. **_“Fight it, Stiles!”_** came Nate’s angered thoughts. “ ** _You are stronger than this! We are stronger than this!”_** Stiles’ felt his heart swell as he neared the siren. One step closer, than another; Stiles was enthralled.

                Just when all hope seemed lost, Stiles felt a warmth take over him and push him back to the passenger state of his body, Nate had taken control. Nate inched his way closer still, not letting on that Stiles was no longer in control. **“You don’t have to do this Kay! I am here for you! I still love you! You are not beyond saving!”**

“Who are you to speak to me in such a way, boy? You think with your borrowed words and mimicked voice that you can fix this? You are doomed! That voice was lost to me long ago, with the man who carried it!” Kay was livid and the sky began to crash down upon them as lightening struck the ground near where they were standing.

                Stiles could feel Nate’s heart breaking at the site of his beloved, so tormented with grief that she had lost all faith in the world. Somewhere from within him, Stiles began to hum a song he was now quite familiar with. Taking up the beat, Nate began to sing, “ **Good night moon, and good night you, when you’re all that I think about. All that I dream about. How’d I ever breath without…”**

                “Stop it! That song is not yours to taunt me with!” Kay screamed.

                **_“…A good night kiss from good night you? The kind of hope they all talk about, the kind of feelings we sing about, sit in our bedroom and read about. Like a passage from good night moon.”_** Nate let the song trail off as he took one final step towards the siren, her defenses cracking.

                “I will not go down without a fight.” Kay said. They were now close enough that their noses were almost touching. Her sea-green eyes locked onto the violets of Nate’s as she pulled him in for a kiss. With that, she began to pull at the insides of Stiles. He could feel the warmth of life leaving him as it was being pulled from his chest through her lips. Suddenly, Stiles was falling. He pictured the cliff and the drop below as he began to sway. His body felt heavy as it began to tumble down, but what should have been a long drop felt cut off as Stiles found himself going backwards, reaching out with frantic hands for something to hold on to as he landed with a muffled thud upon the grass. He opened his eyes to see Nate, standing full form above him, locked in an embrace with Kay as the two of them fell over the cliff and out of view.

                Stiles lay there for a moment, feeling light headed, dizzy, and oddly alone at the absence of his internal companion. He thought he heard a splash from below as darkness settled over his eyes and he passed out.

 

                Stiles woke with a scream, “DEREK!” Stiles rolled himself up onto his elbows and scanned the area around him for the man. Derek was still lying unconscious a little ways away from Stiles. Stiles crawled over to the body of his love, resting his head on Derek’s bare chest to hear for a pulse. Thump..thump..thump. Derek was still alive and Stiles felt relief wash over him. He spoke Derek’s name softly a few times, then louder trying to wake him, but there was no response. Derek lay there motionless. Stiles wept openly now at the thought of having saved the man, only to have him lost still in this state.

                Stiles reached up to hug Derek’s chest, and it was then that he noticed that one of his hands was still clasped shut. He opened it to find a single white feather contained within, he must have reached out and grabbed it on his fall back to reality when he and Nate had separated. Not sure of what to do with it, Stiles brought it to his lips and gently placed a kiss upon the feather. He channeled all his hopes and love into a singular thought as he did so, then he placed the feather against Derek’s mouth.

                Nothing happened at first, but then Derek began to stir, taking a deep inhale as the feather disappeared into the either. Derek coughed and blinked open his eyes, sniffing the air around him to gather his bearings. “Sunshine and sugar,” he whispered.

                Stiles was filled with a sense of joy and wonder as he saw Derek’s eyes meet his own. “What was that?”

                “Sunshine and sugar,” Derek said. “I’d know that scent anywhere.” Derek pushed himself upward into Stiles, wrapping his arms around him and planting a kiss gently on Stiles’ lips. “Thank you,” he said. “I felt like I was lost somewhere. You were so far away from me and I couldn’t get to you, but you’re here now.”

                Derek could feel the warm tears as they fell from Stiles’ eyes and onto his cheeks. “What’s wrong?” he asked. His eyes searched Stiles’ face for an explanation.

                “Nothing,” Stiles responded as he wiped away the tears. “These are happy tears. I don’t know what I would have done if we, I mean, if I had lost you.”

                Derek smiled up at Stiles knowingly, but began to growl as he heard something stirring in the water below. It became audibly louder as Stiles began to hear it too. The two of them barely had a moment to get to their feet as Nate came floating up, his wings expanding and contracting as they fluttered. In his arms, he carried the unconscious siren as he made his way to gently land near them. Nate looked over at Stiles, his eyes worried and questioning. Still cradling Kay, he pushed his wings outward, wrapping himself and the siren together as the feathers interlocked with one another. The darkened sky began to clear and a ray of light shone down upon their white cocoon.

                A minute passed, then the feathers started to break away, floating off in the gentle breeze. First one, then another, till they were all gone and all that was left was a man, holding onto the woman he loved. Kay began to stir in Nate’s arms. Her black hair faded into a golden brown, her pale features returning to a healthy tanned hue. She opened her eyes to look upon the face of the man she thought she had lost, and as the recognition set in, her gray-blue-green eyes shimmered back to a playful coppery brown. With a tentative hand, she reached up and touched the side of his face. Nate smiled down upon her.

                “There you are,” she whispered as a smile pressed her face. Then she closed her eyes again as Nate leaned down to kiss her.

                When Nate pulled away, her eyes remained closed, but her breathing was steady.

                “What exactly just happened?” Stiles asked of Nate.

                Nate stole another kiss from Kay before looking up and regarding Stiles and Derek. “When I felt her thrall upon you, I pushed your consciousness to be subdued and I took over. When I let myself fall into her kiss, she began to pull at what she thought was your heart, but instead it was mine. The overwhelming force of it was so intense, that it pulled me from your body and back into the physical world. We toppled into the lake, where I went after her once we were under. Upon fully seeing me again, she faltered, and I took it upon myself to act in that moment. Once we had emerged from the water, I used my power of healing to mend her broken heart. It took everything I had, but she, as well as I, am mortal once again. She is whole again, and we will have our second chance at life.”

                “I can’t say that I forgive her actions,” Stiles said, “but I can understand her motive.” Stiles looked over at Derek and watched as the blush crept up his cheeks, a knowing smile teasing the corners of Derek’s mouth. “You may want to go by and see Deaton before you do anything else. Let him check the both of you out for any residual injuries you may have.”

                “Speaking of,” Nate stammered, “If we flew a long way to get here, and I can’t exactly carry us back…. how do you suppose we find our way into town?” Stiles, Derek, and Nate looked awkwardly at one another before Stiles started laughing.

                “Well,” Stiles said as he raised a hand to scratch at the back of his head, “It may be a bit of an awkward ride, but I can call Scott to come get us. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled we’re all ok, but having Kay in the car might be a bit of a stretch until he understands what’s been going on. On a side note,” Stiles said as he turned to eye Derek, “we should really talk about your taste in women. They either beat you up, or want to murder you outright!”

                Derek grinned, showing his fangs to Stiles, “is that a warning for me to reconsider what I’m thinking of doing to you later?”

                Stiles jaw dropped and Derek reached up and patted himself on his back. “Yes!” He exclaimed. “You are finally speechless!”

                Stiles shook his head, ashamed of himself for not having anything to say, and sullenly pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial 1 for Scott. It was time to go home.

 

                Four days had passed since the showdown with the siren. Derek and Stiles spent the first three in Derek’s loft, recuperating from the battle, basking in the company of one another, and then recuperating from the pleasures that came along with that. On the fourth day, Stiles suited up in his deputy’s uniform and reported for his first day at the police station under the tutelage of Sheriff Parish.

                The day was remarkably uneventful, filled mostly with copious amounts of paperwork and the occasional hazing from the other officers. At the end of his shift, Derek picked him up in the camero and took Stiles out for drinks. Stiles found it oddly poetic to be coming full circle when Derek pulled into the parking lot of Mahalo. Lydia, Scott, Liam, and Jordan where all outside waiting for him when they arrived. Tonight was the official grand opening of the bar and loud music accompanied with terrible singing could be heard coming from inside.

                They walked in to a warm welcome from Danny who was standing behind the bar with Jackson. Mason was perched on a stool, toying with the rim of his soda as he looked appreciatively at Danny. It only took Stiles a moment to register that Mason was the one that installed Danny’s sound system and whom he had gone on a date with that first night.

                The room grew quiet as the music died down and a drunken man stumbled off the stage and away from the karaoke microphone. Stiles was surprised to see the couple walking up on stage after the man had excited, and with a big grin and a wave, Nate pointed to Stiles and Derek, ushering them on stage to join him and Kay. Derek nudged Stiles forward and followed behind him as they made their way up and beside the other couple.

                “I asked them to join us for the festivities tonight” Derek told Stiles. “I searched through your Ipod when you were at work today to find a song we could all sing. I hope you like it.”

                The lights dimmed down as the music kicked on. Nate and Kay started, followed by Derek, and finally Stiles who caught on to the song.

_“Circles and cycles and seasons_ __  
For everything there's always reason  
But it's never good  
Never turns out as it should  
No one ever held you  
No single moment of truth  
But if you were mine  
I would've looked into those eyes  
And you said:

_Tell me the words_ __  
You want to hear  
And I'll sing them loud and clear  
Let me heal the wounds you've held on to for all these years  
Break the cycle  
Break the chains  
Cause love is louder than all your pain  
Than all your pain…”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this work in stages and gave them to my gf as part of a prolonged Valentine's day present. Hopefully the cohesiveness of the story became more clear as you progressed through the story. If you managed to make it this far, all the way to the end, Congratulations, and a deep thank you for bearing with me. I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
